The Karpov Code (NEW version) FINAL CHAPTER (18) NOW UP!
by fh20s
Summary: Blondes & Richard just don't mix! Co-authored by Fh20s and Roa1. NB: NOT slash. Consists of multiple chapters to be published in serial form - a chapter a week. It IS COMPLETE- so you won't be left mid-story. THIS IS A NEW VERSION of TKC. Reviews welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

The Karpov Code - New Version

 _An original story by Roa1 and Fh20s._

 **Grateful thanks to our beta-reader, Louise Hargadon.**

 **Thanks also to HeatherTN for doing a preliminary read-through for us.**

 _._

 _ **Before you read please note:**_

 _ **This is a NEW version of the original story. In this version violent scenes and implied torture are no worse than that which would have been shown in the series itself (in our view).**_

 _ **Although we normally write C/R slash, this story is NOT slash. Craig, Richard and Sharron are all heterosexual in this tale.**_

 _ **It's a stand-alone story, unrelated to any episode, and features all three Champions and Tremayne.**_

 _ **It is a long story, running to several chapters. You can access each new chapter at the top of the page on the right using the drop down box. We intend to publish one new chapter per week. We've already completed the story so you won't be left hanging.  
**_

 _ **Reviews are always welcome.**_

 **Chapter 1 'A blonde...a drink...'**

Richard, stripped to the waist, was lying tied down on a table in what appeared to be a cellar. He turned his head to the right and saw Craig, his shirt ripped open to his midriff, bound to a chair with his hands behind his back. A small moan escaped Stirling's lips as he opened his eyes. Brown eyes locked with blue in silent acknowledgment of their predicament. Richard hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I thought the case was over?"

"So did I," his friend replied. "For some reason I don't think this is related."

"Great! Now all we have to do is figure out what's going on." Richard said, as he made another futile attempt at breaking the leather strap around his wrist. After a great deal of effort, with no reward, he gave up. He looked over at his clothes piled on the floor. _'Another jacket ruined,'_ he thought.

"Have you any idea what happened?" he asked.

"I'll tell you what I remember," replied Craig, suppressing another moan as he turned to look at Richard and realised just how much the movement made his head ache. "It was late. You went over to the bar to offer to buy that blonde a drink - just after you'd seen her buy herself one. I thought I'd leave you to it but when I got back to our room I realised I had your keys. I came back down just as the two of you were leaving but something didn't feel right. I started to follow you and as soon as I stepped outside it suddenly felt as though a ton of bricks had landed on the back of my head."

Richard thought for a moment. ' _A blonde...a drink...Craig was probably going to have to be more specific. No, wait_...'

"The Pluto Bar?" Richard asked.

"Yes, and the blonde who'd been eyeing you up all night"

"Hang on, _she_ bought _me_ a drink."

"That figures, you sure can be a dope sometimes," muttered Craig

"What?"

"I said you must have been doped. You know, in the drink."

 _'I thought she seemed a little keen,'_ Richard thought.

"OK, OK. So how long have we been here?" he said aloud.

"I was out cold, or had you forgotten?"

Barrett ignored the slightly sarcastic tone in his colleague's voice and said, "I don't think I can break these straps, can _you_ get free?"

Craig squirmed about on the chair for a couple of minutes, wishing that the pain in his head would subside enough to let him think.

"I can't get enough slack to snap the ropes. I could probably break the chair if I could stand up and get some leverage against the wall," he finally said, "but the legs are screwed into the floor so I can't move it."

It was at that moment the door opened. Both men craned their necks and saw three figures framed in the doorway. Two large men flanked a smaller one, slightly in front of them, who stood watching the Nemesis agents for a moment and then walked slowly into the room towards Craig. After a moment's pause he spoke.

"So, Mr. Barrett, I don't suppose you'd like to tell me about the Karpov Code?"

Craig frowned slightly and tried desperately to think clearly enough to make a decision about whether to correct the man's error. One of the larger men walked over to where Richard lay on the table. The other grabbed hold of Barrett's hair. Their boss continued to address Craig.

"You see Mr. Barrett, I rather need you conscious. Your friend on the other hand..."

The larger man punched Richard in the jaw. Craig heard the sound of the impact and felt it too, through the mental link he and his colleague shared. He fought back a wave of sickness as he realised that it was too late to point out that he wasn't Barrett and that he was going to have to sit there and watch, helpless to stop this. Stirling struggled to think but his brain felt like soup.

"Too slow, Mr. Barrett."

Another blow to the jaw. Richard groaned in pain, his breath short. The blow had split his lip and he could taste blood. Craig tried desperately to come up with a way to get them to untie him. _'And quickly,'_ he thought as a fist smacked straight into his friend's ribs. The sudden, sharp pain wasn't helping him think straight and, whatever he came up with, it was going to be a lot easier if his colleague could still walk out of here.

Meanwhile Richard was in the grip of two conflicting very strong emotions. The first was anger at the men who were inflicting this pain on him and forcing Craig to sit there helplessly watching.

 _'My God, they'll be sorry when we get free,_ ' he thought grimly.

He was also intensely curious as to what the Karpov Code meant to these men.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of the man's balled up fist ready to strike.

"All right, all right," yelled Craig.

Richard wondered if he was hearing things. His colleague was going to co-operate with the man about a code he knew nothing about. Barrett was confident of this fact because he'd never heard of it either.

"You need the code?" Craig asked.

"Don't you dare," hissed Richard, trying his best to play along while he worked out what his friend was up to.

The other man ignored Richard.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'll need a computer," Craig continued.

The man considered this for a moment and then turned to the larger of the two men who had been using Richard as a punch bag.

"Any trouble, kill him," he said gesturing towards Barrett.

As Craig's hands were being untied, he watched one of the men put a gun to Richard's head. Unfortunately for the thug in question he'd gravely underestimated the extra strength the Nemesis man was able to call upon when he was angry and, right now, he was seriously annoyed. Craig got to his feet as the ropes fell away from his hands. While the men were watching the American, Richard - in a single smooth movement - flexed his muscles, broke the leather strap securing his wrist, grabbed the gun and threw it to his colleague, who caught it deftly.

"Set him loose," commanded Craig, while the men were still recovering from the shock of the sudden reversal of fortunes.

"Do it!" snapped the smallest of the three men, watching the gun warily.

As Craig watched the men undo the buckles of the leather straps Richard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Once free, he rolled on to one side, spitting blood on the floor.

"What now?" Richard asked as he looked at the three men. Two of them were standing at the foot of the table on which Barrett was sitting, the third man stood very close to Richard's side.

"Well," Craig replied, "we need them conscious, for the moment."

As Stirling glanced towards the two men who were standing together, the thug nearest Richard thought he saw a chance to turn the tables yet again. It was in his mind to incapacitate the Nemesis man then use him as shield while he and the other two men rushed Craig. He swung his fist at Richard who reacted with lightning speed, jumping down from the table and felling him with a single powerful punch. The man lay on the floor groaning and sobbing in agony. Barrett watched him dispassionately for a few moments then put him out of his misery with a well-aimed karate chop. The other thug looked down at the crumpled wreck of his colleague and paled visibly. Craig almost felt sorry for him until he saw the bruises that were starting to appear on Richard's skin. Taking advantage of the men's shock the American said,

"So, if you don't want to end up on the floor next to your friend there, I suggest you start talking."

The leader of the group hesitated for a moment. Richard was not in a patient mood. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the wall.

"All right, I'll talk."

Craig didn't blame him; if Richard had been looking at _him_ like that he might well have talked too.

"I'm working for...er...somebody...a man. He told me to get the information out of you."

"You're going have to do better than that," Stirling said.

Richard moved threateningly close again, meaningfully striking his left palm with his right fist. The man's face turned the colour of putty and words began to spill out of him, tumbling over one another in his haste to tell all he knew and avoid being hurt again.

"I don't know his name, he didn't tell me. I'm telling you the truth. Oh God, please don't hurt me any more. I'll talk, I'll talk, I'll tell you everything I know, everything, only please, please keep away."

The man backed away as he spoke, clearly terrified.

"Keep talking," Richard said, his voice low.

"I'm supposed to meet him, once I get the information," the man stammered.

"Craig," said Stirling.

It took Richard a moment to realise his friend was talking to him. He turned to see the American indicating that he had something he needed to say. Craig kept the gun trained on the two men as Richard approached.

"I'm thinking we should let him," the American said in a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"We let him arrange the meeting and then we have a little chat with his boss."

Richard looked back at the man.

"How do you set up the meeting?" he rapped out.

The man cringed back still further and seemed to be having difficulty controlling his tongue.

"I'm waiting," Barrett said dangerously.

"Bbb..by telephone, I have a contact number."

Craig pointed to the phone in the room.

"Dial," he commanded.

"Maybe you should sit down?" Craig said to his colleague as the man dialled, "I think you're making him nervous."

Richard sat down and rubbed his jaw as his friend pointed the gun at the man.

"No tricks," Stirling told him, "keep it short and calm."

The man nodded and then spoke.

"It's Jenkins; I've got want you want."

He paused, listening for a moment.

"I'll be there."

He replaced the receiver.

"7 a.m Cafe Royal."

"You double cross us and you'll be sorry," Richard said as he rose, checking his watch. "We've got some time to kill. I'm thinking we tie them all up then we can call somebody to pick them up."

The thugs were swiftly dealt with and then, having got Jenkins to tell them their present location, Richard called Tremayne to advise him of the situation.

"Everything okay?" Craig asked as his friend put down the receiver.

"He's sending the local police along." Richard replied.

"So why the scowl?"

"When I asked Tremayne to get them to bring us some new shirts, I got the impression that he expects us to pay for them ourselves." Richard said gloomily.

"Once he knows the full story I'm sure we'll be able to charge them to expenses." Craig said.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Richard said, and lapsed into a morose silence.

Craig shrugged his shoulders and turned away from his colleague. He'd learned that it was best to leave his friend to his own thoughts when he got into this kind of mood so he sat in silence as the two of them waited for the police to show up.

They arrived within ten minutes bearing two new shirts. Richard scowled as he read the price tags but then shook off his gloomy mood and, together with Craig, left the police guarding the captives and took a look around the building but found nothing. Frustrated, they got Jenkins from the cellar and returned to their hotel room to make plans for the meeting at the Cafe Royal.

* * *

An hour later the two men were finishing off their breakfast while finalising the plan, having locked Jenkins in their bathroom.

"You'd better get going," Craig told his colleague.

"Right," Richard replied as he took a last bite of his toast. He grabbed his gun from the table and headed for the door. "I'll go have some fun in the undergrowth."

Stirling smiled to himself as his friend left. Richard hadn't been particularly thrilled to be acting as back up but the bruises on his face made him stand out in a crowd so it had to be the American who would have a drink at an adjoining table while his colleague kept a gun trained on Jenkins from afar.

* * *

A little later Craig sat down in the cafe to wait for Jenkins' boss to arrive. Instantly two waiters converged towards the table at which the Nemesis man was seated.

"Well done Johnson," one of the 'waiters' said to the erstwhile Jenkins, "you fooled him nicely."

Craig felt something, that he strongly suspected was a gun, pushed into the small of his back. Abruptly he half rose from his seat.

"Slowly, Mr. Barrett, slowly now. You are going to walk out of here nice and quietly, otherwise there will be an unfortunate accident with the gun."

The Nemesis man ran his hand through his hair, sighed and did as he was told. Richard was kneeling in cover in the park across the road when he saw his friend rise and start walking. From Craig's increased heart rate it was immediately obvious that things had gone awry.

"Craig," he whispered, "I'll follow you so don't do anything stupid."

It was at that moment a car stopped in front of the cafe and Barrett could do nothing but watch as Stirling was bundled into the back seat. He was just about to communicate with his friend when he saw Jenkins/Johnson point in the general direction of the bushes in which Richard was hiding and the two waiters headed towards him as the car pulled away. There was no option but to run for it, so he chased after the car as fast as he could, not caring if it might elicit a few awkward questions later. Even so, he didn't really stand a chance and after a few minutes running flat out he saw the car turning in the distance. He had to stop.

He was breathing hard, which was damned painful given the state of his ribs, but that wasn't what was bothering him at that moment. He was going to have to tell Tremayne what had happened, which was going to make the two Nemesis men look somewhat stupid. On top of that he'd lost Craig and he knew his colleague was going to find himself in serious trouble. Not only could his friend have no idea what the Karpov code was, he was also stuck with having to carry on with the pretence that he, Craig, was Richard Barrett, a known expert on code breaking. It was far too late for him to have any chance of convincing them of the mistake that had been made. He and Stirling had been careful to say nothing that would reveal their true identities all the time that Jenkins/Johnson had been in earshot. Richard now began to doubt the wisdom of that. The only consolation at that moment was the knowledge that they hadn't started to try to make Craig talk yet. He knew that that wouldn't last long though and he tried to mentally prepare himself for the moment when he would feel the effects of whatever 'persuasion' they decided to use.

* * *

Ten minutes later he put the phone down; rather relieved he hadn't been in Tremayne's office for that conversation. He had been, however, somewhat reassured to learn that Sharron was on her way over.

He also had the number plate of the car he'd seen picking up his colleague. The only thing to do now was head to the local police station and hopefully get the address of the owner.

As Richard set off in the direction of the police station a sudden pain in his arms told him that Craig's 'questioning' must have begun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - So, Mr Barrett, we meet at last.**

Stirling was suspended from the ceiling, his arms taking his full body weight. Johnson had got his men to fasten leather straps around Craig's wrists. A chain led from them to two hooks in the ceiling, anchoring his hands apart. Around his ankles were two more straps and chains on these were attached to some sort of pulley system. At present the links were lying loosely on the floor. The Nemesis man was sweating profusely because of the strain on his arms, his damp shirt clung tightly to his body.

"So, Mr. Barrett, that code," Johnson said.

"I don't know...what you're...talking...about," Craig gasped out through gritted teeth.

"You're going to tell me eventually, why make a martyr out of yourself?"

"I'd really like to help you out but I don't know what you're talking about," the American panted.

"For your sake I hope that's a lie," said Johnson. "Because, if it isn't, there is no reason why we should keep you alive."

At that moment the door opened and a man walked in,

"The boss wants a word with you Johnson...now," the newcomer said.

"I'll be right there," Johnson said. He turned back to Stirling.

"I'll have to leave you for a moment or two. My men can soften you up a bit while you wait for me to return. They don't use very sophisticated methods but I think they'll find some interesting ways to entertain you while I'm gone. I'll just introduce you shall I? This is Watson," he said, gesturing to the man on his left, "and this is Doyle. Do anything you like but I want him conscious when I return. As for you Barrett, any time you want my friends here to stop, all you need do is tell us what you know. Watson, if he starts to talk, you fetch me immediately." He walked across the room then paused in the doorway looking back at his men. "I do mean immediately," he repeated. "Oh and Doyle, it might interest you to know that, while it was Stirling who beat up on Billy, it was Barrett here that held him at gunpoint so he couldn't defend himself. The poor sod got such a hammering that he was actually rolling on the floor sobbing in agony."

Craig saw the anger flare in Doyle's eyes. Johnson smiled when he saw the effect of his words then looked at Watson, mouthed 'Keep him conscious remember', and left the room.

Doyle raised his fists and strode purposefully over to Craig.

* * *

"Are you all right, sir?"

Richard looked up at the young desk sergeant at the police station and tried to marshal his face.

"I'm fine."

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your face. Have you been mugged?"

Richard sighed and passed his Nemesis ID card to the man saying,

"Take this to your boss."

"OK ..." the sergeant read the name on the card, "... Mr. Barrett."

* * *

"Mr. Barrett!"

Craig lifted his head; aware that this voice, with its barely detectable nuance of an American accent, was one he hadn't heard before. He could tell by the man's demeanour that he was very much in command here. Stirling let his head sag downwards again, he was having a great deal of difficulty breathing and he made a rasping sound with each inward breath.

"So Mr. Barrett, we meet at last," the man said. Despite the fact that he spoke in a silky smooth voice, the underlying menace was not lost on Craig. "I've decided to give you my personal attention. Would you like to know why?... Well I'll tell you. Apparently, Mr. Barrett, you aren't the innocent clerk we had you pegged as. I've just had a telephone call informing me that you're not merely a cryptographer after all; you're a front line agent. I guess that means you'll have had training for situations such as you find yourself in at the moment. Well don't go thinking that's gonna help you; I've had plenty of experience of cracking men of your type. I _always_ get what I want and, right now, I want the Karpov code and I mean to get it."

The man stepped behind Craig and put both hands on the Nemesis man's shoulders, he pushed down on them very slightly but it was enough to elicit a gasp of pain as the pressure on Stirling's shoulders increased.

"Now." the man said and gestured to the equipment on the floor. A sadistic smile crossed Doyle's face.

"Okay Boss," he said as he bent down and began to operate the pulley system very slowly. Craig's body was steadily stretched as the chains on the floor shortened. The boss gestured for the man to stop.

"Had enough yet, Mr. Barrett?" he asked.

Stirling was afraid that if he opened his mouth to respond to the question he wouldn't be able to prevent himself from crying out, so he kept silent.

"Give him a little more," the boss commanded.

* * *

Richard sat in the police chief's office waiting for the man to return while simultaneously trying to keep his mind off the feelings that were running through him. Just after the police chief had left, to check out the registration number, the pain in his arms increased significantly. It felt like they were being ripped out of their sockets and it was becoming ever more difficult to concentrate on the job in hand.

"I'm afraid it's not good news," the police chief said as he entered the room and sat at his desk. "The car was reported stolen three days ago by a Mr. James McGuire from out Finchley way."

He handed Richard the address.

"Might be worth a visit," Richard replied, his mood darkening. "In the meantime can you see if you have anything on a man called Jenkins? About 5'10'', average build, dark hair, going a bit bald at the front?"

"We'll let you know if we find anything."

"Great."

Richard left the police station and drove up to Finchley. He didn't hold out much hope that this would lead to anything but he couldn't come up with anything else to do.

"Mr. McGuire?" he asked the short, grey haired man who opened the door.

"Yes," came the cautious reply.

"It's about your car."

"Oh, are you the police?"

Richard decided to play along.

"Yes," he said.

"Have you found it?" the man asked hopefully.

"It's been spotted but I'm afraid we lost it. May I come in please? I have a few questions and I need some answers."

* * *

"I need some answers," rapped out the boss, slapping Craig across the face. "The Karpov code, now!"

The questioning had gone on and on. The boss relentlessly asking the same thing over and over again and, to Craig, it seemed like days had gone by.

"I'd…tell...you...if I...could…but I…don't...know…it," gasped Stirling, desperately trying to draw enough air into his tortured lungs to get the words out.

"Er Boss, sorry to bother you but that call you requested has just come through," said a voice from the doorway.

"OK I'll be right there. Doyle, you and Watson keep Barrett occupied while I'm away, we can't allow him to get bored now can we?"

"Should I stretch 'im some more Boss? Or can I try somethink else?" asked Doyle.

The boss studied Craig's face carefully,

"Not the stretch, not right now, he's too close to passing out," said the man as he left the room.

"OK,"

Watson and Doyle taunted Craig for a while then grew bored as they got no response from him. Eventually Doyle walked behind the Nemesis man. Craig felt a karate chop delivered to the back of his neck, then everything went black.

"Oh, bloody 'ell!"

There was an angry sound from the doorway and both men turned and saw the boss standing there with an extremely annoyed expression on his face. Doyle looked at him with trepidation.

"I thought he could take it, Boss - honest I did.. and I didn't mean to hit that hard… anyway I was aiming for his shoulder not his neck…it was an accident …honest it was" he blustered.

* * *

Meanwhile Richard headed back to the police station. He'd felt Craig pass out and his concern for his friend was making it hard for him to keep focused on the task in hand. His visit to Mr. McGuire's residence had turned up nothing and he was now regretting the time lost. The elderly gentleman had been very co-operative, but he hadn't seen the theft, merely woken up one morning to find his car gone. He had just retired from his work in the City and was keen to have someone to talk to, so Richard had found it difficult to get away.

Back at the station Barrett learned that the thugs they'd captured earlier had been transferred to a police holding cell and that their fingerprints had been sent to Scotland Yard, which meant a long wait for the results. Richard made a mental note to interview the prisoners after a quick return to his hotel. Becoming more worried about his colleague by the minute he got back into his car.

* * *

The boss finished his examination of the unconscious Craig and turned to Watson.

"I told you to keep him conscious," he said dangerously.

Watson took a step backwards.

"Lucky for you I'm not in too much of a hurry," the boss continued. "That call was to confirm that my other place is ready. I've a feeling that Barrett is gonna be stubborn and I can get quicker results over there. We'll have one last shot at making him talk with the equipment we have here and then, if he continues to hold out, we'll move him. So, as soon as he comes round, we'll have a final go at him here and, this time, I don't want any mistakes. He's not to be allowed to pass out – understand?"

"Yes Boss, sorry. I won't let it happen again," Watson said.

The boss turned to where Doyle stood. As he did so the door opened to reveal Johnson, standing alongside a rather attractive, leggy blonde. She stood in the doorway looking around the room for a moment.

"Where's Barrett?" she asked.

"Barrett?" the boss replied.

"Yes, Barrett."

"This isn't Barrett?" he asked, nodding towards Craig.

"That's Stirling."

Johnson paled visibly as his boss turned to him.

"My men told me they'd put Barrett in the chair," Johnson stammered.

"And I told them to put Barrett on the table," the blonde countered.

"It's not my fault," pleaded Johnson.

"It is your fault that you hired idiots," the other man said darkly.

"So what do we do about him then? Do you want us to wipe him out?" asked Johnson, gesturing towards Craig in an attempt to deflect the attention from himself.

"Not just yet, he might still be of some use, leave him there for now. I'll make a few calls and have Barrett picked up," said the boss.

"Actually," said the blonde, "I may have a better idea. I'll just need these guys in case I want a little back up." She pointed to Doyle and Johnson.

With that all of them walked out of the room leaving Stirling still hanging from the ceiling.

* * *

After a short interval Craig recovered consciousness, saw he'd been left alone and realised that this was probably his only chance to free himself. Leaning slightly to one side he gained enough slack in the chain attached to his right wrist to give it a sharp tug and break it.

He quickly realised that he had no chance of getting any slack to break the chain leading from his left wrist so he would have to unfasten the buckle on the strap in order to free himself. He hung there for a second or two fighting to remain conscious. Then he set to work trying to undo the cuff around his left wrist. This was almost impossible for three reasons, firstly; his hands were above his head so he couldn't see what he was doing. Secondly, his right hand was so wet with sweat that it kept slipping off the buckle as he struggled to release it. And thirdly, he was slipping in and out of consciousness because of the pain. To make matters worse he couldn't help being acutely aware of how desperately thirsty he was. Over and over again his hand slipped from the fastening.

When he was almost ready to cry with frustration, he managed to undo the buckle and he fell to the floor, bathed in sweat, his face contorted with pain. The jolt when he hit the ground sent him into oblivion for the second time that day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - They made me do it**

As Richard entered the hotel lobby he got the distinct impression that somebody was watching him. He stood by the lift and casually glanced around the room. There was an old woman at the reception desk who was carrying a yappy dog and demanding better service plus a stocky man standing near the door, apparently waiting to use the phone. Cautiously the Nemesis man stepped into the lift. He leaned against the wall as he pressed the button for his floor. The doors shut too quickly for him to notice the stocky man walk into the phone booth.

As the lift ascended Richard suddenly felt very thirsty and sensed that the feeling was in some way connected with Craig. He wondered whether it was worth heading back downstairs to the hotel bar to get himself a drink - it would save him having to pay extra for the privilege of having someone bring it up to his room. Then he remembered the bruising on his face and thought that, if he could persuade Tremayne he'd got his injuries in the line of duty, he _should_ be able to claim the cost of room service on expenses. He decided to risk losing the money rather than face the stares of the other hotel residents and continued up to his room.

As he unlocked the door Richard couldn't entirely ignore the awareness of danger he felt. Admittedly, he could have been picking up stray thoughts from Craig but he decided to be careful anyway. In the end it didn't make any difference. He'd just shut the door behind him when the blonde he'd met at the bar the previous night stepped out of his bedroom. She was pointing a gun at him and, given the distance he had to cover and the apparent nervousness of the woman holding the gun, he decided not to risk an all out attack. As he took a cautious step forward she spoke.

"They made me do it. They said I just had to help them once. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I only brought the gun 'cause I thought you'd attack me."

Barrett noticed her hand was shaking and that she looked terrified but wasn't quite sure whether he should believe her just yet. He ran his hand across his mouth while he thought about what to do. The friction reopened the cut on his lip and he felt blood trickling down. He stood very still for a moment, weighing up the situation, then walked very slowly towards the girl and she lowered the gun slightly. Finally he got close enough to take the gun from her trembling hand. She fell into his arms murmuring,

"Help me, I'm so scared. Will you help me, after what I did to you?"

Richard took hold of her upper arms gently and held her a little away from him, bending forward slightly so that he could look into her eyes.

"Of course I'll help you," he said, "you just have to trust me. Tell me what you know about them."

As he spoke a few drops of blood from his cut lip trickled onto his shirt. He dabbed his mouth with his finger.

"I do trust you, but I'm really afraid they'll kill me," she replied.

"Don't worry, if you tell me everything, I'll take care of you," responded Richard. "Do you know where they've taken my friend?"

"Yes, yes I think so. But I'll have to show you, I don't know the address."

"All right, just let me change, and we'll go straight away," Barrett replied, the blood on his shirt giving him an excuse to leave the room. "Would you like a drink while you wait?" he asked the girl, thinking that maybe she'd stop shaking if she had a little alcohol inside of her.

She shook her head. Richard gently moved her to a chair and then walked into his bedroom.

The girl seemed genuine but, not wanting to take any unnecessary risks, he quickly scrawled a message for Sharron in case she arrived before he got back. It was vital that she knew about this latest development and also she needed to be updated on his visit to Mr. McGuire. He didn't want to lose any time locating Craig but it was essential that he left word about what had happened just in case the girl wasn't on the level.

When he came back into the main room the girl was looking out of the window.

"Sonja?" he said, really hoping he'd remembered her name right.

She walked over to him, suddenly bringing her hand up to touch the bruise on his face.

"Are you all right?"

"Let's go," he said quickly and walked towards the door. Richard stopped with his hand on the door and turned to Sonja.

"After you," he said.

* * *

When Craig finally recovered consciousness he lay motionless on the floor for a few minutes, completely unable to make his body obey him. The pressure had eased but the pain had not, every breath hurt and his joints felt as though they were on fire. He sat up as soon as he felt able to move and unfastened the straps around his ankles. His thirst was getting worse, which was hardly surprising given the amount of sweating he'd done. He strongly suspected that his left shoulder had been dislocated and he massaged it with his right hand for a few moments while looking around the room for an escape route. The room was windowless and there was only one door. He made a rapid search of the room but found nothing to indicate where he was or what this was all about so he picked up his jacket, which was lying on the floor, and headed towards the door.

He put his hand on the handle to steady himself while he listened intently. He could hear nothing that indicated anyone was nearby. He opened the door very slowly, looked out and saw a dark corridor with several doors leading off it. He set off cautiously then, hearing a noise in the distance, he hurried into the nearest room. It was completely empty and again windowless. Craig realised he must be underground which wasn't surprising considering what they had been doing to him. From the presence of the apparatus they'd used it was clear that he wasn't the first person they'd tortured and an underground room would ensure that any sounds their victims made wouldn't attract unwanted attention from outsiders. Just thinking about what he'd been through seemed to intensify the pain in his joints. His left shoulder in particular was aching abominably and, to make matters worse, he was getting increasingly desperate for something to drink. He heard footsteps coming along the corridor and men's voices and suspected that they were on their way to continue his 'treatment'.

The only way out of the room was via the door through which he'd entered. He'd have to wait until they passed then slip out and try to find an escape route. After a moment, Craig cautiously opened the door an inch. He watched as four men walked towards the room he'd been held in. He knew that at least two of them had guns and, given that he still only had partial command of his arms, he didn't want to confront them head on. They had almost reached the door so he had no choice about the course of action he must take. Despite his natural instinct to stand and fight he slipped out of the small room and made his way silently in the opposite direction. He was almost at the point when he would round the corner of the corridor when, behind him, he heard the door handle turn. He knew it would be only moments before his absence would be discovered so, throwing caution to the wind, he ran. Much as it pained him to duck out of a battle he knew that it was far more important for him to escape than to risk recapture.

* * *

Richard tensed slightly as the lift stopped on the third floor and the door opened. An elderly lady, carrying a small dog, stepped in cautiously. After taking a look at the Nemesis man's face she tutted to herself, while the dog growled angrily at Sonja, all the way down to the ground floor. The lady's presence was something of a relief to Barrett, at least that way he could have a moment to watch Sonja. She seemed genuinely upset, but that could all be an act. However he didn't have any choice but to go with her, it seemed to be his best chance of finding out where Craig had been taken. The lift reached the ground floor and Richard ushered the elderly lady and Sonja out first.

"What now?" he asked.

* * *

Craig heard a man shout, "What the...?" and knew that his escape had been discovered.

The men stared at the empty room in disbelief, then looked at each other and then around the room again as if they expected to see the Nemesis man suddenly reappear.

"Oh my God, the boss will be livid, quick find Stirling," one of them said.

The men dashed from room to room while one of their number was dispatched to inform the boss of the latest development. As the men frantically opened door after door the boss appeared, white faced with anger,

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"S. for Stirling."

"Have you lost your minds? Searching for Stirling?" he raised his voice to a shout, "Searching for Stirling! God, give me strength! He'll be long gone. We need to get the hell out of here before the police arrive. That's two places those men have cost me. Looks like I underestimated them and I don't like it when that happens," he said grimly.

* * *

By the time Richard and Sonja got to the Nemesis man's car it was early afternoon, Stirling had been missing for over five hours and Barrett hadn't picked up anything from him for at least thirty minutes. He hoped that was good news but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd better hurry or his friend might be in serious trouble. _'More serious trouble'_ , he added to himself.

"You'll need to turn left onto the main street," Sonja said.

Richard nodded and set off.

* * *

Craig made his way up the flight of stairs as quietly as he could, listening intently for any sign of movement ahead of him. From what he had seen so far he had been in a modified basement of a fairly ordinary London house, with any luck he'd find the way out on the next floor. As silently as he could he eased the door at the top of the stairs open an inch. He found himself looking into an ordinary hallway. He left the entrance to the stairs open so that he would be able to hear what was happening in the cellar and grinned to himself when he heard the commotion as the men's search for him became increasingly frantic. As he walked into the hallway and approached the front door he heard a car coming towards the house. He ducked into the nearest room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the window but decided not to risk trying to leave that way. If the occupants of the car happened to look in that direction they couldn't fail to see him. The car engine stopped and Craig waited, hoping that the new arrivals wouldn't make his escape impossible. He could hear voices coming from the car but couldn't distinguish any words. Ten minutes later Stirling was beginning to lose patience and wondering whether to risk trying to leave the house. He decided that, if the occupants of the car showed no signs of either leaving or coming into the house within the next few minutes, he'd have to make a move to escape regardless of their presence. Just as he'd decided that he couldn't afford to chance hanging around any longer, he heard the car door opening, people calling goodbye to one another, then the sound of high heels on the pavement walking away from the house that he was in. The car engine started up again and was driven away. Craig quickly re-entered the hallway and was just heading for the door when he heard another car coming towards the house. Cursing under his breath he decided to try to leave via the back door instead and hurried in that direction.

* * *

"This is the place," Sonja said.

Barrett looked across the street at the shabby front door.

"You'd better stay here," he said as he got out. The girl did as she was told.

Quickly Richard crossed the street and stood with his back against the wall just by the front window. Cautiously he looked through the glass and, seeing the hallway empty, he edged towards the door and opened it. Once inside he noticed the door to the cellar was ajar. He wondered if Craig was here somewhere, and cursed the fact that now, of all times, his ability to pick up on his friend seemed to have deserted him. He opened his mouth to call out to him then shut it abruptly as he heard the sound of men's footsteps coming from the cellar steps.

* * *

Craig left the house via the back exit and, wincing slightly, put on his jacket. Hopefully he'd manage to get back to the hotel without it becoming too obvious that he'd been injured. He headed for one of the telephone boxes he'd passed earlier when being driven to the house. He quickly entered the booth then discovered that, not only had he been relieved of his wallet, but that all his change had been taken too. Heaving an exasperated sigh he dialled the operator and asked for a reverse charge call to Tremayne in Geneva, so that arrangements could be made for a 'mopping up' team to search the house where he'd been imprisoned. While he waited to be connected, he tried to make telepathic contact with Richard but could sense nothing from him.

* * *

Barrett was caught at the top of the stairs. He made a quick decision that retreat was the better option but, before he could step back into the hallway, something hit him hard from behind. By the time he landed at the foot of the stairs he was unconscious.

The boss glanced down at the body at the bottom of the stairs, then he looked up.

"Nice work, Sonja. Now let's get out of here."

* * *

"Stirling? Stirling, are you still there?"

Tremayne's voice sounded very distant as Craig fought off the effects of the blinding headache he'd just experienced.

"I think we have a problem," Craig said.

"What?"

"You've taken down all the details?" Stirling asked.

"Yes, yes, but what is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I have to go."

Craig slammed the receiver down and flung the phone box door open.

He made haste to get back to the hotel where he and Richard had been staying. As soon as he arrived he approached the reception desk and stood politely waiting, controlling his impatience as best as he could while an elderly lady collected her room key.

"Have you seen my friend?" he asked the receptionist eventually.

"The man with the bruised face? He's in your room," replied the man.

Stirling started towards the lift but was intercepted by the elderly lady.

"He's not in the room you know," she told him, "I saw him go out about an hour ago."

"Out?" echoed the Nemesis man.

"With a blonde he was, who was no better than she ought to be," the lady continued. Her dog yapped loudly.

Craig ran his hand through his hair in disbelief. Surely Richard hadn't allowed himself to be duped by another blonde? Maybe even the same one.

 _'Good grief, what's wrong with him, will he never_ _learn?_ _'_ Stirling thought in exasperation.

* * *

"Is Barrett tied up?" the boss asked.

Johnson nodded.

"You gave him something to keep him quiet for a while so we have time to move him, right?"

"Yes."

"And all our papers, where are they?"

"Sonja has them."

"Then let's go."

The man closed the back door of the house and climbed into the truck. In the back Johnson watched Barrett carefully.

* * *

Craig quickly returned to his room. Sure enough, Richard had left a note. It was definitely from him, he recognised the bold handwriting that his friend reserved for mission communications.

So, the blonde had turned up with information. _'Brilliant!'_ he thought sardonically. _'Now what?'_

Conscious of how terribly thirsty he was, Stirling went into the bathroom and, picking up the tooth mug, poured himself a drink of water. He drank it straight off, then did the same with a second mug-full, then a third. He filled the mug for a fourth time and drank half the liquid in it. Then he decided that, having taken care of that particular urgent need, he really ought to get cleaned up. He undressed as rapidly as his shoulder would allow and ran himself a hot bath knowing that a long soak would soothe his aching muscles.

Once he'd finished he stepped out and, picking up a towel and the half filled tumbler of water, walked back into the bedroom. He rummaged in the suitcase under the bed and pulled out the bottle of whisky that he and Richard had smuggled into the hotel to celebrate the end of the last mission and added a generous measure to the water in the mug. Then he put the towel on the bed, sat down and took a large slug of his drink. Then, feeling considerably better he dressed himself and contemplated his next course of action. Unsure of the best way forward, and in the absence of any better ideas, he decided to go back to the house he had been held in. He doubted that the men would be foolish enough to stick around but maybe he'd find some clue to their identities and possibly even an indication as to where they'd go next. He rapidly downed the rest of the whisky then headed out of his room. As he arrived on the street outside the hotel he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw the elderly lady he'd met at the hotel.

"I just wanted to say I hope you find your friend," she said.

"Oh, er thanks," replied Craig a little nonplussed. He started to walk away from her but she grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You put me in mind of my grandson you know, a little older of course, but all the same you do have a look of him. His father's one of you," she confided.

"One of me?"

"An American. Came over for the war - he was a GI don't you know? Anyway he married my daughter and my grandson's the result."

"Mmm, that's nice," said Craig trying to remove her hand from his arm as gently as possible but she just gripped tighter.

"It is indeed. Not like what happened to my other daughter, oh no. She had her heart broken. Another GI it was. She thought he was going to marry her; they'd made plans. She was saving all her coupons for the wedding dress and what do you think happened?"

"I've no idea," said Craig, wishing he could think of a polite way to shake her off.

"Blonde," she said, nodding sagely.

"Blonde?"

"Blonde, brazen hussy. There was my poor daughter planning the wedding - even got as far as ordering the invitations she had and what did he do but take up with a blonde strumpet. Heartbroken, my daughter was, heartbroken. I told her no good would come of it and sure enough that blonde harlot went off with an English colonel soon after. I've heard tell she's on her third husband now. Not a nice woman." At this point the elderly woman shook her head and tutted. "Not a nice woman AT ALL. But young man, you shouldn't be standing here chatting to me. You need to go and find your friend before that floozy leads him astray. Mind you he looked to me as though she'd already caused him some trouble - the state of his face - I expect she was responsible. Some disgruntled man she'd abandoned decided to teach him a lesson maybe? As if it was his fault - I ask you. Blondes", she shook her head again, "nothing but trouble they are, I tell you. You make sure _you_ find a nice dark haired young woman for yourself, you know where you are with them," she finished.

Craig breathed a sigh of relief as she finally let go of his arm.

"Thanks I will," he said, politely.

Having finally extricated himself from the interminable conversation with the old lady he headed for the house as fast as he could, trying to make up for lost time.

When Craig arrived he immediately saw the police cars. He had rather hoped a Nemesis team would have got there first but had no idea if there were any posted in London at the moment. So one problem was that the police had likely trodden over any evidence there might have been. The other problem was that he hadn't been able to sense anything from Richard for well over an hour, which struck the simplest method of locating him off his list.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Five…four…three…two…one

Consciousness came back slowly to Richard. He was aware that somebody was talking but couldn't seem to understand the words. As he struggled to regain his equilibrium he kept his eyes shut and tried not to move. The longer he could listen in, he theorised, the more likely he'd pick up a clue as to where he was and what the heck was going on.

Unfortunately, given his current position, he wasn't going to be able to stay motionless for long. He appeared to be tied to a wall. A stone wall, he added to himself. He noted, somewhat grimly, that he seemed to have lost his shirt again. His arms were tied apart, presumably to separate points above his head and currently they were bearing his entire body weight. It was becoming increasingly difficult to resist straightening his legs so that his feet could take the load. He opened his eyes a crack and noted that his feet were anchored to the wall at floor level; his knees hung about a foot off the ground. The floor was made of stone.

"Know wot this is all about?" somebody said.

"Not a clue mate," was the reply. "All _I_ know is that it 'as to do with some code the boss wants and that this is one of the 'specials'. This geezer is obviously a lot tougher than 'e looks, otherwise the boss'd just be stickin' to a bit of rough stuff in one of the other places 'e 'as. That usually does the job an' they spill the beans fast enough, don't they? You know 'e only uses this place and gives them 'is personal attention when 'e reckons they might need a bit more persuadin' than usual."

"Almost makes you feel sorry for the poor sod don't it Frankie?" remarked the first man. "Wonder wot it's all about though? Suppose It's a need to know scenario," he said with a laugh.

"Well, the Yanks are always like that Eddie...'ey, did 'e move? Go send for the boss."

"OK," said the other man. He walked over to the door, opened it and spoke to someone just outside. Then he walked back into the room and sat down on a chair next to his colleague.

Realising that there was nothing to be gained by continuing to fake unconsciousness and that he might need to use his arms later if he was going to get out of this, Richard straightened up.

"Mornin', Sunshine," said the man who had been addressed as Frankie. He was perched on a table in the centre of what looked like a cellar.

Richard ignored him. Instead he looked around to get an idea of his surroundings. The set up looked depressingly organised. He was tied by his ankles and wrists to four purpose built metal hoops in the wall. He pulled experimentally at the ropes, weighing up the possibility of gaining sufficient slack to give a sharp enough jerk to break them. Unfortunately there was very little give in them at all. He could barely manage to get even the most tenuous grip with his palms and, in so doing, he had to hold his hands at such an awkward angle that he knew it would be much too painful for him to stay in that position for long. Hanging from his wrists for any length of time would be equally untenable so Richard couldn't help feeling a tinge of relief that he was anchored to the wall low enough to put his feet on the floor to support himself. He took another look around, familiarising himself with the layout of the room, in the hope that he'd be able to come up with a plan to get himself out of this mess. At the same time he was searching for some clue as to where he was and what these people intended to do with him. He was busy trying to work out the purpose of the solid looking box that was attached to the wall, at floor level, next to him, when the door opened. From the subtle change in Frankie's demeanour it was clear that the man who strode into the room was in charge.

"Oh, you're up then," the boss said as he walked up to Richard. "I suppose you're wondering what that is," he added, looking down at the metal box.

There was a hand held device attached to the box by a wire. He unhooked it and switched it on. Richard heard the unmistakable buzz of electricity.

* * *

"Hello, hello is anyone there?" The female voice on the end of the phone sounded elderly and impatient.

"Tremayne here."

"Are you the man in charge? I told the girl who answered the phone I would only speak to the man in charge. I always go to the top and I can assure you I have no intention of wasting my time talking to underlings," said the lady.

"Yes, I'm in charge, who are you and what is this about?" asked Tremayne.

"I'm Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter, and I can't abide Bessie or Lizzie so don't you think of shortening it in _any_ way, any way _at all_. What I tell folk who try to shorten it is this - the name I was given was Elizabeth, not Betty or any other such name and, if I was given the name Elizabeth, then that's what I ought to be called - I mean you have to have it right don't you?

At this point she paused long enough for Tremayne to ask her again why she had called.

"Well," she said, "it's about the young man, the one with the bruises and the blonde hussy I mean, not that nice young American gentleman. I've remembered something about _her_ that I think you should know. I had to do a bit of detective work to get your number by the way, but then I always was clever that way, would you like to know how I found it out? "

Tremayne, whose mind was reeling a little, managed to gather his scattered wits enough to reply that there was no need for her to explain and perhaps she would consent to pass on the information she had.

"Well, it's like this you see, I knew I'd seen that blonde harlot before and I've remembered when it was. She was in the company of some very shady characters and you'll never believe it..," here she paused dramatically, "I know a couple of them, and they really are very shady characters, very shady indeed. They were at school with my grandson and, even then, I could tell they'd come to no good, real bad 'uns. I used to tell Dorothy, my daughter you know, 'you keep Donald away from them'. And sure as eggs is eggs I was right."

"Can you give me some names and addresses?" asked Tremayne rather faintly.

"Tiny problem there, I can't just bring them to mind at the moment. I'll ask Dorothy. She'll remember for sure but she's a very busy woman. So I thought I'd just check that you wanted to know first before I bothered her. I'll pop round there now and ask her. I'll be in touch. Goodbye"

"No, wait! I'll…"

Tremayne heard the dialling tone and realised that she'd put the phone down on him. He put his head in his hands and sighed deeply.

* * *

"So, you're Mr Barrett."

"If you say so."

"And you think you're funny." The man smiled an unnerving smile. "Now you see this here?" He showed Richard the device in his hand. "It has a dial." The man turned it. "One to ten." He smiled again and Richard rather wished he wouldn't. "This is 'one'."

Without any more warning than that Richard felt a sudden jolt of electricity run through him. Bearable, but then that was 'one'.

"This is two," he paused for effect. "You understand what that means, don't you?"

"Well, that depends, is it directly or exponentially proportional?" Richard replied.

"What?"

"Or logarithmic, it could be a logarithmic scale?"

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

"No, no."

"Tell you what, maybe you can tell me?"

A second, stronger shock pulsed through Barrett's body.

"So, what do you think: direct, exponential or whatever the hell that other one was?"

Richard decided that he'd stop playing for time for the moment.

"You wanna try three?" the man asked rhetorically, cranking up the dial once more.

The man's lips curled into the smile that Richard was really beginning to hate.

"Or how about you just give me the Karpov code before I get really mad?"

* * *

Tremayne picked up the phone again and dialled the number of the hotel where his two operatives were staying.

"Stirling here," came Craig's voice after a short delay. He sounded distracted.

"Stirling, I think we have a lead on Barrett. I've had a telephone call from a lady who might have important information for us. I understand you've already met her, an elderly lady, she... er... talks rather a lot."

Despite his concern for Richard, Craig couldn't help grinning slightly as he pictured Tremayne's face during the conversation with the lady in question.

"Yes, we've...," he broke off as he was assailed by an intense pain across his stomach, _'Richard'_ he thought, "...er we've met," he finished.

"Do try and concentrate Craig. The lady is called Elizabeth Hunter, you need to see her and find out what she knows, she might have some addresses for us."

"Right – where is she now?"

"She didn't say and she wasn't on the line long enough for our agents to trace the call so you'll have to use your initiative. She has a daughter called Dorothy and a grandson called Donald if that's any help to you. We haven't got a line on those men you described yet so, right now, Mrs Hunter is the best lead we have."

"OK, I'm on it," replied Craig and cradled the receiver.

* * *

"You know you're going to tell me in the end," the man said.

He put his left hand against the wall to the side of Richard's head and leaned in close.

"We've barely started and, you know, you're a mess."

Richard said nothing. He had decided early on that he'd better keep his mouth shut, partly because it was only making matters worse, but mostly because as soon as they realised he really didn't know the code he'd be dead.

"No?" asked his tormentor, his smile mockingly sympathetic. "Still trying to hold out? Very admirable. Pointless, but admirable."

The two metal electrodes moved closer and Richard held his breath waiting for the inevitable. Gradually he became aware of the boss's voice.

"What do you want Doyle?"

Richard looked up. The man called Frankie was standing near by.

"A closer look," the man replied, with a nasty smile.

The boss laughed quietly. "You'll get your chance, but not yet. Understood?"

Doyle looked rather disgruntled.

"Sit down!" his boss ordered, and the man skulked away.

The boss leaned in close and whispered in Richard's ear.

"You shouldn't have pissed off Frankie. Everybody round here knows you don't mess with his family if you know what's good for you. But then, you're not from round here are you?"

Richard didn't know how he was supposed to have messed with Doyle's family but right now that wasn't important.

"You aren't from round here either," Richard replied defiantly.

The boss smiled that awful smile of his and looked at his watch.

"You know what? I'm going to let you think about things for a while. I have a call I need to make." He turned to the two other men. "Watch him. And Carter, you keep an eye on Doyle, I want there to be something left of Barrett when I get back." He gave Barrett one more menacing look then left the room.

"Watch 'im?" said Frankie. "What does the boss think 'e's gonna do?"

"Maybe 'e does magic tricks," said the other man.

"Well 'e'd 'ave to be 'oudini to get out of the mess 'e's in right now."

"True," said his colleague. "That reminds me did you get to take your missus to that 'Houdini, Man of Magic' thing she wanted to see before it closed?"

"Yeah, she loved it. She were all over me that night, if you get wot I mean. I reckon it's because she fancied the bloke wot was playing 'oudini, but 'ey, if it works don't knock it! Eh, Eddie?" He elbowed his friend meaningfully in the ribs. Eddie laughed and shoved him away light-heartedly.

The two other men turned to look at Richard.

"Take my advice chum," Eddie said to him, "tell the boss everythin' you know as soon as 'e comes back. I've seen 'im 'question' a few blokes in my time and I've never known 'im not get what 'e wants. If you think you've 'ad it rough now it's nothin' to what 'e'll do to you when 'e gets back if you don't start co-operatin'."

"Why do you care?" Frankie asked. He was sitting on the table swinging his legs, smoking a cigarette. "I've got two good reasons to want this guy to get an 'ard time. One, I'm gonna be 'ere all night an' my missus is probably out tryin' to find that 'oudini guy. An' two," he jumped down from the table and approached Richard, addressing him now, "one of the guys you got arrested today was my kid brother, Billy."

He stopped and squared up in front of Barrett.

"An' then I 'ear you slapped 'im around," he added quietly, "an' ya know wot? I don't appreciate that, an' pretty soon the boss'll let me show you just 'ow much I don't appreciate that."

"Hey Frankie, cut it out. You know the boss don't like it when ya mess with the routine," Eddie said.

"Yeah, yeah." Doyle took a drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Richard's face.

"Later, Sunshine., he said.

* * *

Craig coughed, took a deep breath and attempted once more to impress on the receptionist just how important it was that she get the information he needed.

"But I don't know where the manager is at the moment, can't you come back later?" she asked a little plaintively. The fact that she found this particular guest very attractive made her really want to help him but she was afraid that she'd lose her job if she told him what he wanted to know without authorisation.

"I understand that you need to get permission before you can give out the home address of a fellow guest but there must be someone you can ask if it's okay. This could be a matter of life and death," Craig said. "Please," he added.

"Well I suppose I could ask Mr. Henderson, he usually takes charge when the manager isn't around," the girl said a little doubtfully.

"Yes, that would be great," Craig said. The young lady disappeared into the back room, returning a few moments later with a tall, slim, grey haired man.

"What's the problem?" the man asked.

Craig handed over his Nemesis card and then explained that he needed the home address of Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter.

"Well it's very irregular but I suppose it will be all right," the man said. He opened a cupboard under the desk, pulled out a small filing tray and flicked through the cards, while Craig looked on trying to suppress his rising impatience.

"Ah this is the one," Henderson said, as he handed a card over.

Stirling took it and read it rapidly.

"The lady's home address is missing," he said.

"Oh yes, I remember now, she's moving back to this area to be near her family. At present she's between houses and is staying here at the hotel until she finds suitable accommodation for herself," Henderson explained.

Craig's heart sank, it appeared that he was once again at a dead end and that he would have no choice but to wait until Mrs. Hunter came back to the hotel. He was seriously worried about the likely effect of the delay on Richard and that anxiety showed clearly on his face. The receptionist was moved by his obvious concern and racked her brains for a way to help him.

"I might be able to get her daughter's address for you if that would help," she said struck by sudden inspiration. "One of the kitchen staff is quite friendly with her, that's how Mrs. Hunter came to hear of this hotel in the first place. If you just wait a moment or two I'll go and find her."

The wait seemed interminable to Craig, the intermittent pain he kept experiencing made it horribly clear to him that Richard was having a tough time, and any delay was likely to make things much worse. At last the girl returned waving a piece of paper triumphantly.

"It took me a while to find her but here's the address you want. The daughter is called Dorothy by the way," she said, handing the paper over to the Nemesis man.

Craig took it from her, thanked her profusely and hurried out of the hotel.

* * *

"Wot's keepin' the boss d'you think?" Carter asked some time later.

"Sonja," replied Frankie, with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

"Course I'm right, Eddie. Wan' another smoke?" he asked, holding the packet out to his friend.

"Thanks," replied Carter.

The two men smoked in companionable silence for a moment or two then Frankie got up and walked over to Richard. He lightly touched the bruise on Barrett's face.

"I do 'ope that bruise is down to Billy. I'd 'ate to think 'e didn't get one good punch in, 'e sure can mess a guy up when 'e's given 'alf a chance."

As he spoke he moved his cigarette towards Richard. He paused when the tip was almost touching his victim. Then slowly and deliberately he stubbed it out on Richard's exposed chest.

Eddie looked away. He wasn't going to intervene this time but that didn't mean he had to watch. When he looked up again Barrett had his teeth clenched and was breathing hard. Doyle was just lighting another cigarette.

"That was for Billy right…You shouldn't 'ave messed wiv 'im…right? It's payback time! You got a choice, either you lift yer feet off the ground and 'ang from yer arms or I..' he gestured with the cigarette towards Richard's body. "You got five seconds to make up yer mind…" Frankie said to Richard.

"5"

For the briefest of moments Barrett's stubborn streak attempted to assert itself. He wanted to tell the man to go to hell and damn the consequences.

"4"

Where the hell was Craig? Richard had assumed that he was locked up in the same place as his friend but he had been unable to sense anything from Stirling at all. Was it possible that they'd moved again?

"3"

Richard watched as his tormentor waved the cigarette negligently around. Was his pride worth this?

"2"

He was fast coming to the conclusion that he wasn't likely to be rescued any time soon.

"1"

Pushing the humiliation as far down as he could, Richard let his legs go limp, taking the strain on his arms. Frankie ruffled his hair, laughing.

"You're a good sport. 'ey, Eddie, I bet ya 'e puts 'is feet down before the boss gets back."

"'ow much?" Carter asked, as he rummaged through a drawer in the table.

"A quid?"

"Sure," Eddie replied absentmindedly, as he found a pack of cards and started shuffling, "Wanna play?"

"OK."

Eddie dealt a hand of cards and the two men played a couple of rounds then Frankie looked across at Richard.

"Did 'e just move..? Yeah he did!" he said.

"No way!"

"'e did, just for a second."

"You're dreaming."

Richard heard the scrape of a chair. _He hadn't moved had he?_ He didn't know anymore.

"What's going on?"

The Nemesis man looked up and saw the boss standing in the doorway.

"Er, nothin' Boss," Frankie replied as nonchalantly as he could, "just playin' cards."

"Then why's he...," began the boss gesturing towards Richard who had lost no time in straightening up. "...Oh forget it." he finished.

It wasn't worth wasting time arguing with his men at the moment. He had other fish to fry and, if Barrett insisted on keeping his mouth shut, boy would he regret it.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 - You do seem to have made a lot of friends today Mr Barrett

On his way to Mrs. Hunter's daughter's house Craig was wondering if the two thugs he and Richard had caught that morning had been identified yet. Apparently neither of them had said a single word since the police had arrested them and their fingerprints hadn't been on file at the station either.

Soon he was standing in Dorothy's kitchen. The woman was saying,

"I'm dreadfully sorry but I was only half listening to Mum, she does tend to talk rather a lot and, if I'm busy, I just let her run on while I get on with what I need to do. She was asking about some boys who were at school with Donald, my son you know. I told her that I knew their names but that I'd no idea where they live now, so she left. Is it important? If it was, Mum might have gone to find Donald and ask him. Once she gets the bit between her teeth there's no turning her," she finished, with a hint of pride in her voice.

Craig thanked her and got Donald's address but, when he got there, the place was deserted. Somewhat at a loss, and very worried about Richard who he knew was in serious trouble, he returned to the hotel. As soon as he walked into the lobby Elizabeth Hunter rushed up to him.

"Where _have_ you been?" she asked, "I've been waiting for you, I was just about to give up and go to telephone that nice boss of yours again - we had a lovely chat you know, did he tell you about it? He seems a real gent, not like the man my grandson Donald works for, now he's not at all a gentleman, if you see what I mean. Anyway there I was about to go off and telephone and would you believe it? You walked through the door just in time."

Craig's head spun a little, as it always did when he encountered this particular lady.

"Well aren't you going to ask me what I want you for? It doesn't do to be backward coming forward you know, you'll never get anywhere like that," she said.

Craig pulled himself together with an effort.

"Er...yes, I believe you can give me the addresses of some associates of the blonde who was with my friend."

"Oh so you know that do you?" she said, sounding a little disappointed that she hadn't taken him totally by surprise with her new information. "I certainly can, it wasn't easy to find out so quickly you know, Dorothy couldn't bring it to mind at all and when I went to Donald's flat he wasn't in. I had to track him down, I went to his friend Mike's first but he said he hadn't seen him since a party they went to over a week ago - not at all a nice kind of party from what I hear either. Not the sort of party a nice young man should go to. I told Dorothy she needs to keep a closer eye on Donald, I mean, just because he's got his own flat now doesn't mean she should let him run wild now does it?"

"Er, no."

"Well anyway, I tried Jim's next and..."

"So did he give you the addresses you wanted?" cut in Craig, desperately trying to head off another long rigmarole.

"Oh well if you haven't the manners to listen properly then maybe I'll let you find out for yourself," she said huffily.

"No, no it's not that. It's just that I'm very worried about my friend and would really appreciate anything you can tell me that will help me find him."

Somewhat mollified the lady said, "Well one man was called Billy Doyle, he's a bad lot but not as bad as that older brother of his. Frankie they call him - a really nasty piece of work he is. I wouldn't like to meet him in a dark alley."

" _Doyle_!" Craig exclaimed.

"You know them?"

"We've met," he said grimly, "do you know how to locate them?"

"I can give you Frankie Doyle's address if that's any help. He lives in Battersea... quite near the power station."

"That would be useful. What about other men? Have you seen her with…"

"She's a blonde strumpet! Of course there are other men."

Craig made a mental note to get some pictures drawn. In the meantime he made do with giving Mrs Hunter the same careful description of Watson, Johnson and the man known as the Boss that he'd given to Tremayne.

"Do you recognize any of them?"

"No, I don't. Look do you want the address or not? I haven't got all day you know."

Craig thanked her, got the address and hurried off to find Doyle's house.

* * *

"So, Mr. Barrett, had a little time to think? You ready to tell me all about that code now?" The boss paused, cocking his head towards Richard. "Nope? Well, I've brought another member of your fan club along so you can get reacquainted."

Barrett turned his head towards the door and recognised the man he knew as Jenkins, the leader of the three men who'd mistaken Craig for Richard when they were first held captive. His demeanour made it clear that he was still angry with the Nemesis men for turning the tables on him and his hired thugs.

"It seems," continued the boss, "that you made a bit of a fool of my colleague here and then..." He turned to the other man. "...what was it Johnson? Threw you against a wall or something?"

Frankie snorted. Johnson clenched his jaw, clearly humiliated and furious.

 _Johnson?'_ thought Richard. _'Not Jenkins? So that's how they got onto Craig so fast, Johnson set us up.'_ The Nemesis man silently cursed himself as he realised what a serious error of judgment he and Craig had made when they'd believed the man to be completely cowed and made him call his boss to arrange a meeting.

"You do seem to have made a lot of friends today Mr. Barrett," the boss went on. "Tell you what; you two catch up while I check the boys haven't been messing with my equipment." He smiled broadly before starting to fiddle with the machine.

Richard heart hammered in his chest as he watched the erstwhile 'Jenkins' walk to one corner of the cellar. Eventually Johnson pulled what looked like a table leg out of a pile of scrap on the floor and advanced on the Nemesis man. Richard braced himself as the man raised the weapon.

* * *

Craig walked up the path to Frankie Doyle's house and stumbled as he was assailed by a sudden pain in his shin. Limping slightly he continued up the path. His left ankle gave way just as he reached the front door and he pitched forward hard against it. He heard a voice inside the house saying,

"Wot the...?" and someone approached the door.

He had just regained his balance when the owner of the voice opened the door and said.

"Wotever it is yer selling we don'...", the words died on her lips, as she looked up at him, and an expression of amazement came over her face.

Looking at her, Craig suddenly realised what people meant when they said 'she must have seen a ghost', he looked behind him wondering if someone else could have sneaked up on him, but there was no-one in sight.

The woman muttered something under her breath that sounded like 'Houdini' then pulled herself together, took a quick glance up and down the street, then unceremoniously grabbed him and propelled him into the house, shutting the door behind them. Once indoors she seemed to lose her momentum once more and stood gaping at him with a rather soppy smile playing on her lips.

Craig was totally nonplussed and wondered if he'd heard the name Houdini correctly and, if he had, why the woman would be thinking of the famous escape artist right now. He didn't believe that a man like Doyle would discuss his own failings with his wife and therefore there was no way she could guess that he, Craig, was someone who had escaped her husband's clutches. The sentimental way she was gazing at him was very disconcerting. He pulled himself together with an effort and said,

"It's about Frankie. I...er...owe him some money and I've brought it for him."

"I'm his wife, you can give it to me," the woman replied, holding her hand out eagerly.

"I'm sorry but I really must see him personally. I..er..I need to double check the amount with him you see. Is he in?"

"Er no, but 'e'll... er... be back soon I'm sure. Would you like a drink while you wait?" she asked, walking over to a small cabinet and getting out a bottle of scotch.

"Trouble is I have to be somewhere else very soon so I can't wait," said Craig, wishing she'd stop staring at him. "It's really important I give him the money before I go because I can't say when I'll be back - if you just tell me where he is I'll go and find him for myself."

"Oh, 'e won't be more than five minutes, you can wait _that_ long surely, I could do with the company, I get lonely with Frankie being out so much."

She bent down to pour a couple of drinks and seemed, to Craig, to lean over unnecessarily far in doing so. She was wearing a towelling robe that fell open as she bent forward and he couldn't help seeing rather more of her than he wished to.

"I'm sorry I really can't wait," he said.

"Go on, five minutes, we'll 'ave a little drink together, then 'e'll be back an' you can give 'im the money," she wheedled.

"OK five minutes then," replied Craig, realising that, as things stood, this was the best chance he had of finding Richard's whereabouts.

The woman handed Craig his drink and stood very close to him, he backed away slightly and she stood smiling up at him with an unnervingly adoring look in her eyes _._

 _'What on earth was wrong with her?'_ he wondered, ' _And where **was** Doyle?'_

* * *

"OK Doyle, you and Carter go and get a few hours sleep upstairs now," the boss said. "That way you'll be nice and fresh for your babysitting stint tonight."

Eddie stood up immediately and headed for the door. As Richard shifted his weight back and forth, trying to find a position that was tolerable, he saw Johnson and Frankie whispering together very quietly so as not to disturb the boss. His sharp ears could easily hear what they were saying and he hoped to overhear some clue to where he was so he could transmit it to Craig. Unfortunately all he heard was Johnson saying,

"Ah look, isn't that sweet, he's doing a nice little dance for us."

"So 'e is. Nice one Johnson. I'll 'ave to think of somethin' a bit special for when the boss lets _me_ loose on 'im," Frankie replied as he left the room.

* * *

Ten minutes later Craig looked at his watch and said,

"Looks like Frankie was delayed, if you'll just tell me where he went I'll go and meet him."

Doyle's wife thought for a couple of minutes then said,

"I think 'e's gone to do a job for a friend, I 'ave the address but it's in a box on top of the wardrobe in the bedroom an' I can't reach it. If you just come with me, I can show you where it is an' you can get it down for yerself."

Craig suspected that there was no address in a box in the bedroom but, for Richard's sake, he had no choice but to follow up every lead. He sighed as he walked up the stairs in the lady's wake. As soon as they got into the bedroom she closed the curtains, let her robe fall to floor and stood naked in front of him.

"Frankie won't be back at all tonight but I'm sure you won't mind that, I should tell you I don't normally do this sort of thing, Frankie wouldn't like it, but I've always 'ad a weakness for 'andcuffs."

Craig had no idea what she meant and didn't really care, he crossed the room, wrapped her robe back around her and marched down the stairs.

She called down the stairs after him,

"It might be better for you if you give me wot I want, otherwise I might just 'ave to tell Frankie that you came round 'ere an' raped me. Bet you won't find it so easy to escape from that one," she threatened.

 _'Damn!'_ thought Craig. _Damn, damn_ _,_ _damn_ _, as if they didn't have enough problems already without a vindictive woman sticking her oar in, and what the hell was she talking about anyway?'_

Furiously angry with himself for wasting such a lot of time when Richard was clearly in so much trouble he strode down the path then drove back to the hotel.

* * *

Richard hung from his arms again, gasping for air, but could never quite manage to take a full breath.

The boss was hovering over him, the device in his hand. Richard tried to move away as the man brought it close to his side. It was a futile gesture, which only made his tormentor laugh.

"Now what are you going to do?" the man asked, holding the electrodes dangerously close to Richard's skin. "You can't hold that position forever."

Richard couldn't keep it up any longer, his muscles finally gave out.

"I think I'd better give you a break, looks like you're about to black out and we can't have that."

Barrett's head fell forward as the boss let go. He almost wept. He was desperate to pass out just for a few moments relief, a temporary escape from the situation. He screamed inside his head.

 _'CRAIG!_ '

* * *

Craig straightened up from the sink and wiped the vomit from his mouth.

 _'Richard must be going through hell,'_ he thought. ' _It's never affected me this badly before.'_

He started to walk back into the bedroom but was assailed by a fresh wave of nausea. He only just made it to the toilet in time to deposit what felt like everything that was left in his stomach.. He got carefully to his feet, his hands clutching his protesting midriff, and headed for the bedroom. He'd got to the bathroom door for a second time when he realised he'd been wrong, his gut wasn't empty yet. He couldn't seem to stop retching, every time he thought it was over his stomach heaved and he threw up again.

 _'God,'_ he thought, _'I have to pull myself together. Richard needs help and all I can do is sit here with my head in the toilet.'_

At last the nausea seemed to abate but the feeling was replaced by the sound of his friend's voice in his head, screaming his name.

There was a knock at the door.

 _'Sharron!'_ thought Craig, and hurried to open the door.

Sharron stood there looking almost as shaken as he felt. They both spoke at the same time,

"Richard, he's..." and then, "I know."

Craig quickly filled Sharron in on what had happened so far.

"So I've made no progress in tracing Richard," he finished.

"You've tried triangulating his position I suppose?" Sharron asked, after a short pause.

"Yes, I have, that's the first thing I did as soon as I started sensing him again. I'm pretty sure that he's somewhere in Battersea. I tried to get a closer reading when I was out that way at the Doyles' house but, with the margin for error, I just couldn't be accurate enough to get a proper fix on Richard. I checked the map and, not only are there numerous houses that he could be being held in, the place is riddled with warehouses. There's no way we can search them all on our own and we can hardly ask Tremayne to send agents looking. He'd want to know where the information came from and, you know as well as I do, we can't explain that."

Just at that moment the telephone rang in the bedroom and, at the same time, there was another knock at the door. Sharron went into the other room to pick up the telephone whilst Craig opened the door, holding his gun ready to fire through his pocket if necessary. Elizabeth Hunter stood there.

"You don't look well," she announced, on seeing Stirling.

"I'll be OK," he replied.

For once she got straight to the point,

"I've another address for you, it's a man who is in the gang with the Doyle brothers. His name is Eddie something, he lives with another man." She sniffed disapprovingly. "Just goes to show what a bad lot they all are really, doesn't it? Anyway here's their address."

She handed Craig a piece of paper and he thanked her profusely.

At this point Sharron walked out of the bedroom. Elizabeth took one look at her and snorted loudly.

"Blondes!" she said in a disgusted voice and marched off down the corridor.

"What was that about?" Sharron asked.

"She brought us a lead, maybe things are looking up at last."

"I shouldn't be too sure of that," replied Sharron. "That was Tremayne on the phone. He's just had some news that will be _very_ bad for Richard if it gets out. Apparently there _**is**_ no Karpov code."

 _"WHAT_?"

"The Karpov code, it doesn't exist," she repeated.

* * *

Richard closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world. He repeated the same thing in his head, over and over _._

 _'Craig will work it out, he'll be here soon, I just have to hold out a little while longer.'_

He tried to focus, to not think about the pain.

"I know what you're doing."

Richard jumped, his eyes suddenly wide open.

"You're trying to tell yourself that everything's going to be all right."

The man was sitting on a chair next to him. Watching him. Richard didn't know how long he'd been there. He'd lost all track of time and he wasn't able to draw on his superior vision to help him because the boss didn't wear a watch and, frustratingly, Frankie wore his high on his wrist covered by his shirt sleeve. The only indication he could get was the fact that Doyle and Carter had returned, suggesting that several hours had passed since he'd first recovered consciousness. During the time that Richard had been incarcerated it had become very clear that the boss wasn't taking any chances, there had always been at least two guards in the cellar with Barrett. This had made any attempt at escape out of the question. If it hadn't been so frustrating the Nemesis man might have found it flattering. It crossed his mind that Craig must have had plenty of time to locate him, which surely meant that he would be here very soon. Maybe at this very moment his friend was just outside the building waiting for a chance to break in and free him.

"I know exactly what's going through your head," the boss continued. "You're thinking that, any time now, somebody is going to come crashing through that door."

Richard screwed his eyes shut and tried not to listen.

"But that begs the question; who? Who exactly do you think is coming? Nobody knows where you are. _You_ don't know where you are. We're not even in London anymore, so how will they know where to start looking?"

The boss spoke slowly in a whisper, his mouth just inches from Richard's ear. The harder the Nemesis man fought to block out the words the more they seemed to insinuate themselves into his mind.

"You see now why I'm pretty damned confident that no one is going to find this place and that means one important thing, I can take my time," he paused, letting the words sink in. "Last time, with Stirling, I had to rush things a bit. I was a little concerned you might be on your way to rescue that friend of yours. He's dead, by the way, in case you were wondering. Such a pity really..."

But Richard wasn't listening anymore, he was panicking. Was the man telling the truth? Was Craig dead? Was that why he hadn't come? His brain was so fried he didn't know anymore. He frantically tried to find that place in his mind; that intangible, ever-present connection. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. And then it was there; that familiar sensation in his head, indistinct yet concrete. The man was lying, and if he was lying about that...

The boss watched incredulously as a slight smile formed on Richard's lips. He forced himself to stay calm.

"You're resilient, I'll give you that," he said as breezily as he could. "Looks like you've come round though, so we can get back to business."

Eddie stood up abruptly,

"Er...Boss can I pop out an' get some smokes?"

"Sure, get some drinks in too, we'll have a party."

He looked at Richard and laughed.

"I bet you could use a drink too right now, couldn't you? Such a shame you won't be getting one. Or, on second thoughts, maybe you will," he said, walking away from his victim.

"So," the boss continued as he returned from a small sink in the corner, a glass of water in his hand, "here's the deal. You want a drink, I want information. It doesn't have to be much, just confirm you're a cryptographer for Nemesis. Nothing really, I know you are anyway so you're not really giving anything away. What do you say?"

Richard didn't reply. He'd realised very early on that, unlike his underlings, the boss was anything but an amateur when it came to making people talk. It was abundantly clear that the man must have had training in this sort of thing and Barrett had briefly wondered who had supplied the instruction. At this moment, though, it didn't really matter - knowing who was backing this man wouldn't help Richard to withstand whatever the boss decided to put him through next. Right now the most important thing was to stop himself from blurting out the truth and that meant he had to remain silent. He was only too aware that, if he allowed himself to be drawn into talking to this man, the floodgates would open and he'd end up giving himself away. For this reason he was determined to keep his mouth shut, no matter how big the incentive to speak might appear to be.

So he did his best to ignore the man, deliberately looking at the floor, not wanting to see the clear, cool liquid. But the temptation to answer was high. He desperately needed a drink, he was starting to feel dizzy and could barely swallow. Besides, the boss was right, he already knew what Richard did for Nemesis, at least part of it, so he wouldn't be telling him anything he didn't already know. He shook himself mentally, he knew that the moment he started to co-operate he was lost. Start talking now and he might never be able to stop. Better to grit his teeth and hold out.

"Tell you what," the man added. "I'll just leave this down here while we continue. Anytime you want a drink, you just tell me, OK?"

Richard heard the man swallow down a mouthful of water before placing it on the floor in front of him.

"Boy that's good," the boss said as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand.

* * *

Eddie stood just outside the house, thinking things over. Truth to tell he was finding the violence a bit unpalatable. He understood that it was necessary, to make people talk, and had no real objection to that. If people were stupid enough to choose to suffer rather than tell the boss what he wanted to know that was their choice. But this time it was getting to him. He knew Doyle was a sadist and he was used to reining him in when necessary – he'd seen plenty of people 'taught a lesson' while he'd been hanging around with Frankie. All the same it hadn't been easy to watch Johnson's attack. He'd never liked the man anyway - he was a bully and a coward. He was surprised the boss had let him attack Barrett. He wondered how long it would be before Frankie got his wish and the boss let him loose on Richard.

That brought Carter to what was really bothering him. The boss's victims usually talked pretty quickly. He'd never known one who'd been able to withstand as much as Barrett had taken and it was getting increasingly difficult to watch the poor sod being tortured. He wanted it to stop. His options were very limited though. He couldn't break the man out on his own and he'd never go to the police, he was no grass, and anyway he didn't like cops. Until very recently they would have had him arrested just for being with Mac. A lot of bobbies still made it pretty clear they thought the two of them were perverts. Maybe he should call Mac and ask _him_ what he should do. He crossed the road to the telephone box and dialled his home number.

"Mac?"

"Eddie, where the hell are you?"

"Battersea, you know the place."

"Christ, not again."

"Well, that's kinda it..." his voice trailed away, he didn't know what to say. Mac hated Eddie's job. Sometimes they fought about it, particularly when Mac asked him to quit. Why had he called his lover? He knew what Mac would suggest but that wasn't really an option.

"What's wrong?" Mac sounded worried.

"Nothin', I'm fine."

"Eddie, come on."

"Look, I'll see you soon. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Eddie hung up, angry at himself. He was such a coward sometimes but he couldn't walk out on his boss. Nobody did. He crossed the street, picked up the beer and cigarettes and headed back.

He walked down the corridor towards the cellar. He stopped for a moment outside the door, took a deep breath and went in. He nodded to Frankie, who came over and took a bottle from him and then got back to watching the boss. Mercifully it didn't last much longer.

"Tell you what Barrett, how about we make a deal?" the boss said. "Not only will I give you a drink of water, I'll also turn the machine down a couple of notches. All you have to do in return is confirm your name. What possible harm can that do? I already know who you are. You have so much more to gain than I do, so how about it?"

Richard clamped his lips together as tightly as he could, horribly afraid that he'd be unable to prevent the words from tumbling out. He needed a drink so badly and the thought of the machine being turned down _and_ having his thirst quenched was almost irresistible.

"Come on Barrett, it's such a small thing I want you to do. I'll even make it easy for you. I'll ask you a question, then all you'll have to do is say one word - just 'Yes'. For that, you'll get my machine on a lower setting _and_ a lovely glass of cool, clear, refreshing water." He picked up the glass from the floor and swirled it so the water caught the light.

"So... are you Richard Barrett?" he asked.

The Nemesis man ground his teeth together and looked straight ahead, determined not to give in. The boss waited a moment or two then, realising that Richard wasn't going to capitulate, he suddenly lost his temper and hurled the water into his captive's face.

"It's late, I'm going to get some sleep. You keep him awake. Make sure one of you stays in the room with him at all times. We don't want a repeat of what happened with Stirling. He's never to be left on his own, not even for a second – get it? And don't let him pass out," he said looking meaningfully at Frankie. "Goodnight Mr. Barrett, I'll see you in the morning. Unless of course you change your mind about keeping silent. Doyle, if he decides he wants to talk you know how to contact me, otherwise he's all yours," he said as he left the room.

Eddie looked over at Frankie. His heart sank when he saw the smile on his colleague's face.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 - For Christ's sake wake up!

Frankie lost no time in marching over to Barrett. The Nemesis man's head was hanging down limply and Doyle grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it upwards forcing Richard to look at him.

"Johnson tells me you beat my brother up so bad 'e were sobbin'. Well anyone who 'urts my brother answers to me, ya get that? I'm gonna make ya regret ya ever laid an 'and on 'im an' I'm gonna enjoy it," he said menacingly and shook his fist in Richard's face.

"Frankie, NO!" yelled Eddie, "You 'eard what the boss said – he don't want Barrett passin' out. You can see 'ow close he is – one punch could send 'im over the edge. Leave it for a bit. Wait til 'e gets 'is breath back."

Carter knew that Doyle was liable to get carried away and he'd no desire to have to face the boss' wrath if he returned to find the Nemesis man unconscious.

"Aw come on Eddie it's fer Billy. You like Billy don't ya?"

"Frankie, I'm telling you NO! I mean it, I aint gonna let you do it... not yet anyway," said Carter.

"You're getting soft. It's that Mac you've been knockin' around with. 'E 'aint got the guts to join us in this job an' 'e's tryin' to get you to quit too. I can't abide cowards," said Doyle.

"Are you callin' Mac a coward?"

"Well 'e is aint 'e? Tryin' to get ya to leave the business just because ' _e_ don't like violence - weak that's wot 'e is - an' 'e's turnin' you the same way. Yer'll end up just as feeble as 'e is. Now _I'm_ gonna teach Barrett a lesson an' _you_ aint gonna stop me," said Doyle.

"I _am_ gonna stop ya," said Eddie and raised his fist.

"You're kiddin' aint you? What's 'e to you? You fancy 'im or something? Hey Barrett you better watch out – 'e seems to like the look of ya."

"Knock it off Frankie! I aint gonna risk you knocking 'im out, that's all. You 'eard what the boss said."

"For Pete's sake I'm only goin' to rough 'im up a bit that's all," Doyle said.

Eddie stood his ground.

"Damn you, 'ave it your way then. I'm going' to get some more beers," Frankie said in exasperation and stormed out of the room.

Richard nodded his head in Carter's direction, indicating his thanks to the man but his attempt to make eye contact failed. Eddie seemed very ill at ease, he was shuffling his feet and looking at the floor.

"I don't…er…er..I'm not… er – You 'eard wot 'e said and, just for the record, it aint true. You aint my type at all" Carter said.

Eddie wasn't sure why it mattered but he felt he must lay Frankie's comment to rest. There was a pause while he continued to look embarrassed and stare down at the floor.

"Johnson told me Billy threw the first punch, is that true?" asked Eddie looking anywhere but at Richard,

Barrett nodded.

"In that case I guess Frankie don't 'ave no right to be mad at you. You and Billy are quits."

He paused for a moment and the frown on his face indicated he was thinking something out possibly even arguing with himself about something. Finally his brow cleared.

"I don't normally go against the boss but this time I 'aint 'appy with what 'e's been doin' and I figure Doyle and I owe you something for what we put ya through before. So I'm gonna cut you a little slack. Just between the two of us like. You understand that? Soon as Frankie comes back it's business as usual. Ya got that?"

Barrett moved his head wearily in acknowledgement.

Eddie saw the movement out of the corner if his eye – he'd now taken to staring at the wall to the right of Richard.

"Okay, the boss said to keep ya awake but, if you can grab a bit of shut-eye, in the position yer in, I 'aint gonna see - you get me? The last time Frankie went off like that he took about 20 minutes to cool down so I reckon you got at least that long to snatch some kip, if you can. But soon as I 'ear Frankie comin' back I wake ya and ya stay awake. Deal?"

Richard sighed deeply. Now all he had to do was hope he was exhausted enough to be able to fall asleep despite the restraints and take advantage of the brief respite Carter was offering him.

Eddie sat and started shuffling the pack of cards again. He could do this endlessly, practicing tricks or stacking a deck. It was good for whiling away the hours he spent on the more boring aspects of this job or, as was the case here, for taking his mind off things. However, he was good enough that he didn't need to devote all his attention to it and, right now, he was listening carefully for his colleague's return. They'd fallen out before, many times. Once he'd cooled down Frankie sometimes realised Eddie had been right, other times he got mad. He was unpredictable at the best of times. Eddie rather suspected he'd get mad, it had been a long time since he'd had to stand up to Frankie like that and Doyle was a proud man. Carter decided not to dwell on it, he could handle himself well enough and Frankie probably didn't want to hack their boss off, so he guessed he was probably safe enough.

Carter didn't think the Nemesis man was asleep. His breathing was too laboured and he kept moving his feet in a fruitless attempt to take the strain off his arms. Other than the sound of him breathing and his shoes scraping the floor it was eerily silent.

* * *

"It looks quiet," Craig whispered as he crouched below the back window of the house Elizabeth Hunter had told them about.

"Nothing at the front," replied Sharron, who was watching the windows from the street.

"OK, I'm going to try the door."

Sharron watched intently for any sign of movement. All the windows were dark and the street empty. She felt on edge, this had to work or they were all out of ideas, again. She was beginning to tense up, which wasn't helping the situation so she tried to relax and unclench her jaw. Not the easiest thing to do given the circumstances. Craig was taking his time and her mind kept going round and round, her worst fears playing tricks on her. She angrily shook the thoughts away and massaged her shoulders even though she knew it would make no difference. She was glad Craig didn't see her jump when he opened the front door. She hurried in as he flicked on the light.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"There's no one here. I say we search the place or do you have a better idea?"

She could hear the fear in his voice and knew how worried he was about Richard so she forgave his sharp reply.

"All right, I'll take the front room," she replied trying to sound as calm as she could.

* * *

Richard hung there wishing he could just take the pressure of his arms for a few seconds. Every time he almost dozed off, the discomfort brought him sharply awake again. Nevertheless he felt grateful to Carter for allowing him this brief respite. His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone approaching him. A strong smell of beer assailed his nostrils and he lifted his head. Eddie held a bottle to Richard's mouth he was looking towards the door warily.

"Drink this, it'll take the edge off, maybe yer'll sleep then. An' don't go thinkin' I'm gettin' soft - I aint, it's just that all the shufflin' about yer doin' is stoppin' me concentratin' on me game."

Barrett was desperate to drink and it was torture to refuse but he knew he had to. He also realised that merely moving his head away wouldn't give Carter any indication as to why his offer was being refused and might antagonise the man unnecessarily. Despite Eddie's assertion that he, to use the man's own words, 'wasn't getting soft', Richard suspected that Carter was more uncomfortable with the situation that he was prepared to admit, even to himself. His consistent avoidance of making any eye contact with the Nemesis man made his uneasiness apparent and Barrett doubted that embarrassment about Frankie's remark fully accounted for the man's attitude. Richard was sure that Eddie had no sinister motive for offering a drink and, on the strength of this, decided that it would be safe to talk to the man.

"I'm sorry - I mustn't," he said, struggling to breathe and talk at the same time. "Beer will make me more thirsty."

"Please yerself," said Eddie.

He walked away and tried to concentrate on the cards again but Barrett was too much of a distraction. Picking up one of the empty beer bottles he went over to the sink and filled it with water from the tap. Then he walked over to Richard.

"Damn you, will ya drink the bloody beer if I give you this water too?" he asked, staring at the bottle as he waved it in front of Barrett's face.

Richard nodded.

Carter put each bottle in turn to Richard's dry and cracked lips and the Nemesis man drained both bottles.

"Now for Pete's sake get some kip," said Eddie. "Frankie 'aint gonna stay out much longer."

* * *

"Anything?" Craig asked as Sharron walked into the kitchen.

"Nothing. You?"

Stirling shook his head.

"There's got to be something," Sharron continued. "This is the only lead we have."

Craig gave a heavy sigh, "You're right we can't just leave it. We'll just have to go through this place again… and this time we examine every single thing… every letter, every scrap of paper… anything at all that might give us some idea of where Richard might be."

"OK," Sharron replied. "You look downstairs this time, maybe you'll find something that I missed."

"I sure as hell hope so," Craig replied as he walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

Eddie dealt the cards again. Barrett had finally stopped shuffling around quarter of an hour ago. Since then Carter had been thinking about what Frankie would do when he got back. He played the hand for a while then heard a sound in the corridor – Doyle was returning.

Eddie jumped up and ran over to Barrett.

"Wake up," he whispered, "for Christ's sake wake up!"

Nothing.

Carter hauled him to his feet. "Come on!"

He saw Barrett's eyes flutter open as he lifted his head. Then he felt him tense as he realised where he was.

The door opened.

"So I was right! Ya do fancy 'im. Couldn't wait to be alone with 'im right? Damn you both!"

Carter turned round to see Doyle framed in the doorway. Eddie stepped back; Frankie looked like he was in an ugly mood, shaking his head slowly as he advanced towards them.

* * *

"Any luck?" Sharron asked, as Craig walked into the living room.

"No."

"There must be something surely."

"Well there isn't, OK," the American snapped. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry," he added eventually, "I'm just..."

"I know."

Craig slumped down into a chair by the kitchen table. He had to think of something, but what the hell were they supposed to do now? Sharron joined him. The tension that she felt showed on her face and he couldn't help sensing it too, it made it even harder for him to think.

"OK," he said at last, "then I guess we'll just have to sit it out here and wait for Mac or Eddie to show up."

* * *

Eddie stood back as his colleague turned to Richard.

"So you had a little fun with Eddie then. Enjoy yerself did ya Sunshine? Ya better hope Mac don't find out! Well you've got _my_ undivided attention now. So, you feel like talkin'?"

Barrett stared straight ahead

"Nope? Fair enough. So, what to do?"

Doyle's eyes drifted towards the machine on the floor.

"Wow, it's on 8. Most people black out on 6."

"Frankie," Eddie warned, "the boss'll kill ya if ya break it."

"I aint gonna break it. I'm just thinkin' about it right." Doyle smiled nastily at Richard.

Richard was breathing hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the machine as Frankie turned it on. And then off again.

"Nah," he said looking at his watch, "we got plenty of time. I'll save that for later, somethin' to look forward to. Besides," he added as he walked over to the table, "I was wonderin'..." He pulled open the drawer. "Oh, there it is."

Doyle took a cricket ball out of the drawer and flipped it in the air.

"I tried to explain cricket to the boss once but 'e likes baseball. Sounds crap to me," he added conversationally as he walked to the far side of the cellar and raised his arm to throw the ball.

"Frankie, what if you 'it 'im in the 'ead?" Eddie spoke up.

"I aint gonna."

The ball thudded against the wall to the left of Richard's waist. Frankie walked over and retrieved it.

"Frankie, lay off 'im will ya - if your aim's off just once, an' you 'it 'is 'ead, you know the boss will go ballistic. It 'aint worth it."

"Aah, ya worried about 'im? Bet Mac wouldn't be too 'appy if I told 'im you got a new 'friend' eh? Or maybe 'e wouldn't mind, perhaps 'e 'aint so faithful 'isself - I've 'eard your sort like variety."

"You keep your mouth off Mac," growled Eddie.

"Unlike you?...An' probably most of London's faggots," said Frankie with an unpleasant leer.

It took a second or two before the jibe went home, then Carter's face changed. He took a threatening step towards Doyle, who realised he'd gone too far, and backed away sharply. He made haste to placate his colleague.

"OK, OK, just kiddin' around. Let's not fight. My beef 'aint with you it's with that bastard there," he said, pointing at Richard. "Coz of 'is stupid stubbornness we're stuck 'ere all night and I, for one, wanna go home. An' that's before we bring what 'e did to Billy into it. I reckon 'e owes me. Or, of course, 'e can save hisself a lot of trouble and start talkin' – eh Barrett?" he finished.

Richard stared straight ahead as he heard the man laugh. He was determined not to give in to the urge to speak to Frankie, knowing that once he started he might not be able to stop and that his tormentor would capitalise on that. Then he saw Doyle draw back his right arm and hold it there.

"You sure? "

Richard flinched as Frankie's arm swung through. He felt the ropes pull at his wrists. But nothing more.

He looked up. Doyle moved his left hand from behind his back. He laughed as he showed the Nemesis man the ball.

"Made ya jump Sunshine," he said as he tossed the ball onto the floor and sat down laughing.

* * *

Craig and Sharron had been sitting in the dark for the best part of an hour. Stirling had made yet another fruitless search of the premises. He hadn't really expected to find anything but he'd needed something to do. He'd found nothing at all to help and no real clues to the line of 'work' Carter was in. He suspected that the couple of pairs of handcuffs he'd discovered in the cupboard by the bed were for Mac and Eddie's personal use, rather than for restraining potential victims in preparation for the boss's ministrations. All the same he'd slipped the cuffs into his pocket just in case they did turn out to be useful as evidence of criminal activity.

Craig turned to his colleague and said, "I'm beginning to doubt that anyone is coming back here tonight. I think that you should go back to the hotel and see if anything turns up there. I'll wait here just in case someone does show up."

"Don't you think it would be better if _you_ went back to the hotel and _I_ stayed here?" suggested Sharron. "You look all in, and anyway it's Mrs. Hunter who is most likely to bring us information at the hotel, and we both know what she thinks of me. And then there's Mac," she continued thoughtfully, "he might be more susceptible to the feminine approach," she said with a smile.

"You're forgetting Mac's proclivities; if we have to resort to using our charms then I'm more likely to get information from him than you are. No Sharron, you wanted to help, obey orders, go on," said Craig, a little testily.

"If you say so," Sharron said. She paused for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought.

"What are you doing _now_?" Craig asked, sounding impatient.

"I'm trying to get a fix on Richard. Then, when I get back to the hotel, I can take another reading and see if I can manage to pinpoint where he is. I know you tried earlier but I still think it's worth another attempt, I might have more success this time."

"Oh boy, I sure hope so, we could certainly use a break," Craig said, running his hand through his hair. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her the map that he'd marked earlier.

And now all he could do was wait for either Mac or Eddie to show up.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 

4? Did you say 4?

Doyle clamped his left hand over Richard's shoulder, holding his arm straight so that the rope bit into the Nemesis man's. He flicked his lighter and the flame sprang to life.

Richard struggled against Doyle's grip.

"Careful Frankie, keep 'im conscious remember." Eddie said.

"What's up with you? You aint normally this soft. I'm only playin' with 'im a bit. I aint gonna do anythin' that'll put us in bad with the boss - you know that - so wot's goin' on with ya? The noise if 'e starts yellin'? Is that yer problem? Will it put you off yer game? Well I can sort that one fer ya."

Doyle gave Carter a filthy look as he walked back to his chair. He grabbed Richard's shirt which had been flung carelessly over the back of it when they'd stripped it from him before chaining him to the wall. He ripped the sleeve off savagely. Despite everything, Richard felt a momentary pang of distress as he watched Doyle ruin his shirt. He knew it was irrational to care about something as trivial as his clothing right now but, all the same, it was one of his favourite shirts and it hurt to see it destroyed so wantonly.

Frankie got a roll of tape out of the drawer, put it in his pocket and walked over to Richard. He pinched the Nemesis man's nose and held it closed until Richard had to open his mouth to draw breath. As soon as Barrett's mouth was open Frankie started stuffing the shirtsleeve into it. When he was done he took the roll of tape from his pocket, cut a length off with his teeth and stuck it over the Nemesis man's lips. He slapped Richard lightly on the face.

"Good lad."

"Can 'e breathe?" Eddie asked worriedly.

Frankie listened to Richard trying to catch his breath.

"Think so." Doyle flipped open his lighter again and addressed Barrett. "Let's try not to upset Eddie, eh Sunshine?"

"Look, are ya sure 'e can breathe, Frankie? 'E don't look too good to me. Keep this up an' yer gonna kill 'im an' I don't wanna be around when the boss finds 'is dead body," said Carter.

"Oh stop worryin', fer Pete's sake, if 'e stops breathin' I'll take the bloody tape off OK? You're the one who 'as a problem with the racket - you should be 'appy I shut' im up." He turned back to Richard, "Shouldn't 'e Sunshine?" he said, pinching the Nemesis man's cheek.

"I really 'aint 'appy about this Frankie, if somethin' goes wrong the boss is gonna blame me too. Take the damned gag off 'im," said Eddie.

"Stay out of it," his colleague replied angrily. "Wot's got into you? You 'ave got it bad aint ya? 'E aint that good lookin' surely? I didn't 'ave 'im pegged as your type but obviously 'e is aint 'he. Ya dirty sod!"

"Doyle, that aint true and you know it."

Eddie stood up threateningly. Frankie lost no time in placating him.

"Ok, ok so you're worried about what the boss'll say. If I make Barrett talk the boss'll be thankin' me won't he?"

"Frankie... ya can see what a state 'es in… you make 'im pass out, and it won't take much ya can see that, and the boss'll be mad – ya know it."

"I aint gonna make 'im pass out for Pete's sake. Damn it I'm gonna try something. If it don't work it don't work but I'm gonna give it a go. I'm bored and I'm pissed off and if you don't like it you can get out, go for a walk or something. The boss can't blame you for nothin' then."

Eddie sighed heavily. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe if he stopped trying to rein in Doyle the man would work off the worst of his anger, then get bored and leave Barrett alone.

"OK, but be careful won't ya. If 'e passes out you'll be joinin' 'im – geddit?" he said raising his fist to illustrate his point.

Frankie walked over to Richard and flicked the lighter on once more.

* * *

Sharron winced and rubbed her arm as she approached the hotel reception desk. She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together and ignore the burning sensation she was experiencing.

"My key please," she said.

"Er..just one moment Miss, Mr King - our deputy manager - would like a word with you," the man behind the desk said, looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

"Can't it wait until morning? It's very late and I'd really like to go to my room," Sharron replied.

"I'm sorry but he said to call him the moment you got in. If you'd just like to wait over there I'm sure he won't keep you long," the man said gesturing towards a sofa near the lifts.

Sharron sighed then crossed to the sofa and sat down, hoping that the deputy manager had a message for her that would help to find Richard. As she thought of him she rubbed the painful spot on her left upper arm absentmindedly. Some time passed while she tried to think of something more that she and Craig could do to help their friend. When she glanced at her watch she was shocked to see that she'd been waiting over 20 minutes. She was just walking towards the reception desk to ask what the problem was when a man hurried towards her.

"Ah yes, er Miss er Macready, isn't it?"

"Yes that's right," said Sharron impatiently.

"I'm the deputy manager and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I won't have the sort of carryings-on that you've been up to in _our_ establishment. This is a respectable hotel," he said.

"Carryings-on? What on earth do you mean?"

"I wouldn't have believed it to look at you, but you never can tell by appearances. You were _seen_ ," said the deputy manager.

"Seen? Seen where?"

"Seen coming out of a gentleman's bedroom. And what's more, a gentleman that you'd only just met. There's a word for women like you and it's not a pleasant one. I had a hard job calming poor Mrs. Hunter down after the shock of what she saw. She said you walked out bold as brass - absolutely brazen she said," he tutted loudly. "Unbelievable!" he finished.

Sharron sighed deeply, cursed Elizabeth Hunter under her breath, and settled down to the unavoidable task of explaining what had really happened. It took a considerable amount of time before she was able to convince the man but, at last, he pronounced himself happy to let her stay and handed over her key.

"Oh, and there's a message for you," he added a little testily.

"Thank you," Sharron replied as politely as she could. She took the proffered envelope and made her way to the lift. Once back in her room she tore it open.

It was from Tremayne. He was sending reinforcements who'd be landing in a couple of hours. She read it again. They'd never needed help before, why did he think they needed it now?

* * *

Eddie turned over a card trying to ignore what Doyle was doing to the Nemesis man.

"Frankie, give it a rest," he said.

"I've barely even started," Doyle replied.

Carter turned over another card and stared at it miserably. He was hating this. Frankie had given up all pretence that he wanted to make Barrett talk and was giving full vent to his sadistic side. Eddie glanced at his watch then cleared his throat and tried again.

"Fer Pete's sake Frankie you've been playing wiv that lighter for over half an hour, don't ya fink 'e's 'ad enough?"

"Aw shut up Eddie, yer just soft. I aint stopping til I'm good an ready."

A sudden wave of nausea hit Carter. He grabbed the can of beer from in front of him, stood up, hurled the contents at the lighter Frankie was holding and almost ran from the room. The lighter continued to burn for a few seconds and then flickered and went out.

* * *

Craig sat in the dark listening for any sound that might indicate someone was arriving. He hated this aspect of the job when he was helpless to do anything but wait. Once he thought he heard footsteps and quietly approached the window to look out. No-one was there. He sighed, rubbed the sore path on his upper arm - _telepathic pain from Richard_ he thought. He sat down again.

* * *

Frankie stared at the lighter in his hand then looked down at his watch and decided that there was no hurry to get the Nemesis man to talk. Eddie's outburst had shaken him a little. The other man usually left him to his own devices the fact that he seemed bent on keeping him from attacking Barrett made him wonder which of them had lost perspective. He decided to have a sit down, a smoke, a beer and a think.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief. He'd started to despair that Doyle would never tire of using the lighter on him. It felt as though hours had passed, He'd been stunned and horrified when Eddie had said it had only been half an hour. He hadn't been able to stop himself thinking that the man could continue all night. Richard suspected that that's just what would have happened if it hadn't been for Carter's sudden outburst.

Frankie sat silently drinking and smoking, ignoring Barrett's presence. After a while his head started to nod forwards, he jerked it upright but it soon fell forwards again.

 _'He's falling asleep,'_ Richard thought. Now maybe he would get some real respite. He just wished he could keep the weight off his arms but the pain in his shin from the blow Johnson had given him was too great for him to be able to stand for long without taking some of the pressure off. After a while sheer exhaustion took over and his head started to nod forward.

* * *

As Sharron drove through the city she glanced down at her map, looking for a good place to triangulate Richard's position. She neared a likely spot and began to reach out to him with her mind.

* * *

"Wot the 'ell d'ya think yer doin'?"

Frankie's angry shout cut through the fog of sleep that had started to overtake Richard. He struggled to raise his head.

"Ya knew damn well the boss said ya was to stay awake but ya still tried to doze off, ya bastard. I weren't really goin' to sleep ya know. I just thought I'd see wot you'd do if ya thought I was. Tryin' to get me an' Eddie into trouble with the boss were ya? Well I'm really gonna make ya suffer for that."

By the time Richard managed to raise his head Frankie had picked up the device but hadn't turned it on just yet. He continued his rant while examining the electrodes experimentally with his finger and staring at the device as though fascinated by its potential

"Say Barrett ya really know 'ow to annoy me don't ya? First ya beat up on my little brother, then ya won't talk so I 'ave to stay up all night babysittin'. Ya get to Eddie so 'e stops me playin' with the lighter, then I take the weight off my feet for five minutes and you decide to try and drop me in it with the boss. An' ya know somethin' else I don't like about ya? You reckon yer better than us. Ya remind me of them social workers wot told us they wanted to 'elp me an' Billy when we was kids. Said they'd find people wot could look after us proper, not like Mum an' Dad. They said all we 'ad to do was tell the beak 'ow it was for us an' they'd sort it. An' ya know wot? I found out they was gonna split me an' Billy up; put us in separate foster 'omes. So, of course we 'ad to say everythin' was fine at 'ome. Lyin' bastards, them social workers, said they'd 'elp an' all they did were make things worse, coz Mum an' Dad was mad at us after them interferin'. 'Ypocrites they was, them toffee nosed gits. An' you, yer just the same as them, think yer so great don't ya? Well you aint, an' I'm gonna show ya whose on top now." He waved the device in Richard's face, his own eyes still fixed on the dial.

"OK, pick a number between 1 an' 10," Frankie taunted, spinning the dial back and forth.

"4? Did you say 4?"

He set the dial to 4, flicked the wall switch on, and slowly and deliberately moved the device towards Richard's chest.

* * *

Sharron was assailed by the sudden pain in her chest just as she was preparing to pull into an empty car park. Instinctively she pushed her foot down, hard. The night air was filled with the sound of loudly protesting brakes and the car slewed sharply sideways, threatening to tip over.

* * *

Craig straightened up. Would the man never come home? And, assuming he did, would there be anything left of Richard to rescue? The telepathic pain was getting unbearable. He started to pace around the room. Time passed.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 - Leave...me...alone...

Sharron was bent double, her hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, totally unaware of how perilously close the car had come to flipping over. It had skidded along on two wheels for about 100 yards before finally righting itself and coming to a halt. As the agony spread through her body Sharron struggled even to breathe, taking in air with short sharp gasps. It seemed to last forever, building all the time. Her stomach churned and she feared she was about to throw up. As she felt consciousness slipping away from her again, she realised she had to try and dissociate herself from these sensations. She just couldn't seem to gather her wits enough to think of a way to keep her distance mentally from her colleague while, at the same time, getting a fix on his location.

* * *

Frankie cranked up the device up one level and applied it to Richard's stomach again. The Nemesis man's body shook as the electricity pulsed through it.

* * *

Mac switched on the light in his kitchen and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Standing just feet away from him was a man. Admittedly a very tall and rather good looking man, but not the man he was hoping to see all the same. Before he could react, the intruder pushed him up against the wall, holding him by his lapels.

"Now, I'm only going to ask you this once," the man said threateningly. "Where's Eddie?"

Unfortunately for Craig, Mac had a lot more courage than Frankie had given him credit for.

"If you think I'm going betray Eddie just to save my own skin you've got another think coming. I know all about the feuds between rival gangs like your lot and Eddie's boss's crowd and I'm not giving him away," he said.

"I'm not with a rival gang, so give," said Craig, pushing him hard up against the wall, and trying to block the telepathic pain that was emanating from Richard.

"Yeah? Then you're police, that's as bad. Eddie isn't a bad sort, he got in with the wrong crowd at school that's all. But you cops, you won't bother about that, you won't care that he wants out, you'll throw the book at him all the same. I won't betray him and that's that," said Mac, his slight Scots accent becoming more pronounced as his agitation grew.

"Look if what you say is true, I can cut him some slack, but only if you tell me where he is right now."

There was a silence while Mac mulled over Craig's offer.

* * *

Slowly Sharron became aware of her surroundings again. With some difficulty she released her grip on the steering wheel and sat back in her seat, still trying to catch her breath. She could guess the cause of the telepathic pain she was suffering and was more worried for Richard than she had been at any point since she learned of his capture. She could only hope that he would lose consciousness soon, both for his own sake and also because it was impossible for her to locate him if this continued.

* * *

Richard's head sagged forward. He swallowed convulsively, causing part of the shirt sleeve filling his mouth to slip down his throat, and he began to choke. His lungs laboured desperately to draw in air, his head swam and his whole body started to jerk uncontrollably.

"Shit," said Doyle. He frantically tore the strip of tape from Barrett's mouth and began pulling the sleeve out as fast as he could.

"Oh ya stupid sod don't you dare pass out." Frankie flung the device to one side and he pulled Barrett's head up.

His throat finally clear, Richard hung gasping for breath. He realised that this was probably the only chance he'd get to stop Frankie tormenting him. He knew what he had to do but was less certain that he would succeed. He'd only tried this particular skill a few times and, although it had been successful, he couldn't be sure it would work this time. He hadn't been able to try it earlier because he believed it was only likely to succeed if one of his captors was alone with him. When he'd been on his own with Eddie the man's continued refusal to even look at Richard had given him no opportunity to try it. Now, at last, he had a chance and he had to take it. He'd need to be able to articulate a few words and his mouth was so dry he wasn't sure he still had the power of speech. He'd have to pick his words very carefully.

Frankie was stunned when, instead of fear, his mocking grin was met with an ice-blue stare. He gazed back, unable to tear his eyes away. Barrett continued to look deep into Doyle's eyes as he marshalled his forces to get the words out.

"Leave...me...alone..." began Richard, and then his voice failed. He tried desperately to force himself to articulate 'untie me' but could not get the words out.

He continued to fix Doyle with a hypnotic gaze as the man backed away slowly. Barrett was almost in tears of frustration as he tried over and over to speak.

 _'Just two words,'_ he thought, ' _two words.'_ But it was no good, he could say no more.

Frankie sat down heavily on the chair, and looked away from Richard.

Five minutes later Carter returned to the room.

Eddie had made it to the door once already but had been unable to force himself to enter the room. He'd been terrified at what he might find. He bitterly regretted fleeing the room and leaving Barrett alone with Frankie but he had been unable to bear watching any longer. When Doyle got carried away like that he was almost impossible to stop and Eddie knew just what his friend was capable of when he got in that kind of mood. An out of control Frankie was an ugly sight indeed and he'd just _had_ to get away. He'd barely made it out of the room before he'd thrown up suddenly and violently. He'd spent the next few minutes leaning against the door for support and contemplating the horror of the situation he found himself in. His mind kept going round and round, desperately seeking a way out.

Finally he'd fetched a mop and bucket and cleaned up the vomit then he'd stepped outside the building, lit a cigarette and smoked it mechanically. As soon as he'd finished he'd started pacing, wondering what the hell he could do. He'd thought through least a dozen different scenarios all of which ended badly - especially for him. In all of them he wound up dead. In the worst of them he ended up taking Barrett's place and being slowly tortured to death.

Eventually Eddie had come back to an awareness of his surroundings. He'd looked at his watch and was horrified to see that almost 2 hours had passed. He'd not believed it at first. He'd shaken his wrist and put the watch to his ear in the hope that it had stopped working properly but the loud ticking put paid to his hopes. Where had all that time gone? He knew he didn't have the most agile brain in the world but TWO hours – how can he have been thinking things out for that long? He'd left Barrett alone with Frankie in one of his most sadistic moods for two hours...TWO HOURS! Barrett was probably dead by now - once Doyle let himself go there was no telling what he'd do. And he, Eddie, had let it happen. Now what the hell was he going to do? Admittedly the boss hadn't said that they both needed to stay with Richard constantly but, all the same, he didn't relish having to explain why he'd stayed away long enough for Frankie to finish the Nemesis man off. He'd felt sick as he went back into the building and headed towards the door of the room that held Barrett. He'd pulled up short just outside, listening for any sounds. He could hear nothing and was so disturbed by the possible implications that he'd been afraid to go in and had started pacing up and down in the corridor wondering how he was ever going to force himself back into the cellar.

A couple of minutes later his fear of what the boss would do to him if Frankie had killed Barrett while he, Eddie, was out of the room motivated him to at least find out what had happened. With great trepidation he turned the handle of the door, paused momentarily, then squared his shoulders and walked into the room.

Once inside, Carter looked from Doyle to Barrett then back again in disbelief. He had no idea what had happened and wondered what Frankie was up to. He toyed with the idea of asking what was going on but decided that, as his colleague appeared to be allowing the Nemesis man some respite - although it was sure to be part of an elaborate plan to make Barrett suffer more later, he had better keep silent for now. He sat down next to Frankie and dealt them both a hand of cards. Doyle picked his up and started playing as if he'd forgotten Richard was there. Carter tried not to look in the Nemesis man's direction just in case it set Frankie off again.

* * *

At last, after what seemed like hours, Sharron felt the pain subside enough for her to risk reaching out to Richard once more. After a couple of minutes she was successful. She took out the map and collated all the evidence she had so far.

* * *

"Besides," Craig added, "I'm not after your friend, I'm after his boss."

"His boss?" Mac asked thoughtfully.

"Do you know him?"

"Sure, everybody does round here. Don't know his name though, not his real one at any rate."

"You sound like you're not a fan," said Stirling.

"If he ever finds out I ratted on him I'm dead, so's Eddie."

"He won't."

"You'll never get him," Mac added.

"You'd be surprised."

Mac paused for a moment. If this man could really get rid of Eddie's boss then that solved a lot of problems and, for some reason, he had confidence that he could.

"It's an abandoned warehouse over in Battersea."

"You got a car?" Craig asked.

Mac nodded warily.

"Then you're driving, what's the address?"

"I'm not sure of the number but it's in St John's Road."

"What car you got?"

"Mini - pale blue," Mac replied.

"Registration number?"

"787 BHO"

"Right. Now I need your phone," Craig said walking over to it. The telepathic pain had finally subsided but that only increased the American's concern for his friend. Would they get to Richard in time?

"Fine, I'll just use the bathroom before we go," Mac said heading across the room.

Craig looked up, momentarily suspicious, then he realised that, due to the location of the room he was in, Mac wouldn't be able to sneak out without him knowing. Reassured on this point Stirling picked up the receiver, dialled the number of the hotel and asked to be put through to Sharron. After he'd listened to it ring for what seemed an age the switchboard operator came on the line and told him that the lady wasn't picking up her phone.

Craig cradled the receiver and decided to try a different approach. He stared hard at the telephone dial, visualising the number clearly in his mind and concentrating on transmitting it to Sharron. After a few minutes it rang.

"Hello Craig." Stirling heard Sharron say as he put the receiver to his ear. "I've got a fix on Richard, he's somewhere between Altenburg Gardens and St John's Hill, Bat...".

"...tersea," Craig cut in. "I've got a location from Mac, sounds like he told me the truth, because he said that Richard's in a warehouse in St John's Road, which is more or less slap bang in the middle of those two streets you mentioned. We'll meet you there. Mac's going to drive me, he has a pale blue mini, 787 BHO. Mac reckons it will take us about 10 minutes to get there. Call for back-up and tell them to raid the place in half an hour. That'll give us 20 minutes to get Richard out of there. You got that?" Craig said.

"Yes see you soon," Sharron replied and hung up.

* * *

The card game finished and Eddie picked up the cards.

"You want another game?" he asked.

"No, I'm too tired to concentrate properly. I'll just sit here and have another beer. Do you want one?" said Frankie.

"Yeah, sure crack open another one for me."

Carter cast a puzzled glance at Doyle then looked across at Richard and back to his colleague again. He wondered what the hell had happened while he was out of the room and what Frankie was up to now. The Nemesis man was so still and quiet that Eddie was beginning to wonder if he was alive. More than anything he wanted to go over and check but he was afraid of what his colleague might say or do. He stood up in an exaggeratedly casual manner and slowly edged his way across the room towards Richard, casting sideways glances at Frankie as he went. Doyle made no attempt to stop him and, emboldened by this fact, Eddie became confident enough to approach Barrett.

Richard prepared himself to attempt to use the same trick on him as he had on Doyle. He'd had been waiting for this opportunity from the moment that Carter had returned to the room. The fact that the man had obviously been trying to ignore his presence ever since he came back had been incredibly frustrating for the Nemesis man. Just when he was beginning to despair of ever getting Eddie to acknowledge his presence the man had got up and, at last, the chance that Richard had been waiting for looked set to materialise. He wasn't confident that he'd be able to articulate well enough to hypnotise Carter into releasing him but he had nothing to lose by trying, but first he had to get the man to make eye contact with him.

Unfortunately for Richard this was the one thing Eddie was desperate to avoid. His eyes were firmly fixed on Doyle watching him warily as though he expected him to leap up and start attacking Richard at any moment. Carter just couldn't understand was why Frankie had stopped in the first place and why he wasn't showing any interest at all in torturing Barrett further. It made no sense to at all. He wasn't about to draw attention to it by asking questions though.

Richard was concentrating hard on watching what Eddie was doing, ready to take his chance when it came.

With his eyes fixed on Frankie, Eddie felt his way up Richard's arm and fumbled for a pulse. At first he couldn't find one and glanced up at Richard's face in horror.

Richard opened his mouth to speak but was assailed by a bout of coughing.

 _'One chance lost,'_ he thought despairingly.

Eddie was relieved that the man was alive but alarmed at the way the coughing shook his whole body, he looked as though he would peg out at any moment. Carter wished he had the nerve to break him out but knew he'd never find the courage to take that course of action.

He briefly wondered whether he should put another call through to Mac and suggest he drop a hint to one of Barrett's colleagues about where he was. But he was afraid that the risk of the leak being traced back to them was too high and he had no desire to pay for his sudden burst of compassion by getting similar treatment to that which Richard had been put through. Cursing his own cowardice, he did the only thing he felt he could do without putting his own life in jeopardy. He cast a brief glance at Doyle then, without looking directly at Barrett, whispered,

"It's OK, I aint gonna let Frankie touch ya again. Try and get some kip if you can. I'll keep 'im off yer one way or another."

In a desperate attempt to get Eddie to meet his eyes Richard cleared his throat as loudly as he could manage. His attempt failed. Carter looked across at Frankie instead, his heart beating fast as he wondered if the noise would spur his colleague to action. Frankie continued to drink his beer as if nothing had happened and Eddie's relief was tempered with disquiet, the situation seemed surreal and it was unnerving him considerably.

Now that he knew his chance was gone, the despair that Richard felt threatened to overwhelm him. If only he wasn't so exhausted he could have tried to break the ropes. If only he'd been left alone with just one of his guards sooner he would have had strength enough to hypnotise them into setting him free. If only he'd been able to get Eddie to make eye contact whilst Doyle had been out of the room. If only...if only...but now it was too late and soon the boss would be back and there'd be more torture. He didn't think he could take any more but these people didn't care about that. They'd continue to inflict pain on him until he talked, which he couldn't do because he simply didn't have the information they wanted, or until he was dead. And he had to admit that the idea of death seemed almost inviting now.

There'd be no more humiliation, no more pain, no more fear. It would all stop...all be over. Richard's head sagged forward as the negative thoughts filled his mind. He shook his head impatiently, he couldn't give up now. To do that would make all his suffering pointless. If he'd just confessed that he didn't have the information right at the start he'd be dead now and none of this would have happened. He _wouldn't_ wish he were dead, he mustn't. To do so would be a dreadful insult to the people in Tibet who had done so much for him. But how much longer could he hold out? Things would only get worse when the boss returned, he knew that. And he was tired...so very tired...

* * *

Sharron pulled up in a side street. She got out and walked over to the Mini. Stirling got out of the passenger side.

"You stay where you are," he said to Mac before walking round to the back of the car.

"It's just round the corner," he said to Sharron. "Mac has no idea how many men will be in there, but at least one of them will be this Eddie guy and I'm pretty sure Frankie Doyle will be there too – apparently they usually work together."

"What if it's a set up?"

"I've thought about that."

Craig walked to the driver's side door and opened it.

"Sorry about this, but we can't have you double crossing us."

He took out one of the pairs of handcuffs he'd removed from Mac and Eddie's house.

"Hold on to the steering wheel."

"But, I..."

Mac didn't complete his sentence the look on the Nemesis man's face was enough to make him comply. Craig shackled him to the steering wheel then turned to Sharron

"Let's go."

* * *

Eddie sat by the desk, casting sidelong glances at Frankie, expecting that at any moment he would stop acting so strangely and attempt to get back to torturing his victim. Carter was determined to keep his promise to Barrett and keep his colleague away but, all the same, he wasn't looking forward to crossing Doyle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Nemesis man's head drop and then jerk back up. ' _The poor bastard must be exhausted_ ,' Carter thought, ' _he's been doing that for a while now.'_

Eddie felt sick. Sure, he had no objection to hitting someone, when ordered to, but Frankie's gratuitous violence was way over the top and the guilt he felt at running out and leaving Barrett alone with him wasn't helping his frame of mind either. He jumped as Barrett made a gut wrenching sound and then fell silent, hanging limply. Eddie supposed he'd finally passed out. He looked over at Frankie. He didn't seem to have noticed. Hoping to distract him he took the deck and shuffled.

"Pick a card."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 

Where's Barrett?

Craig poked his head up and looked through the window of the disused warehouse that Mac had led them to. With his superior vision, he could see a man who appeared to be asleep on a camp bed. There was no-one else in the room. Stirling signalled Sharron to stay where she was and he silently crept towards the door. As quietly as possible he opened it and sneaked inside. The man on the bed hadn't stirred. The American quickly scanned the entrance before padding towards the sleeping thug. The floor was concrete so he hardly made a sound but something must have alerted the man because he suddenly leapt towards Craig. Luckily Stirling's lightning reflexes didn't let him down despite the element of surprise. He shot out a fist, knocked the man unconscious and caught him before he hit the floor. Using the second pair of handcuffs he'd found at Eddie's place he pulled the man's arm towards a heating pipe and secured him to it.

"OK, Sharron," Craig whispered and moments later she joined him.

"I'm guessing Richard's through there," Stirling added, pointing to the door beside the camp bed.

Craig listened intently but heard nothing. He tried the handle very slowly. If it wasn't locked he'd prefer to crack it open to take a look rather than smash his way through. He was immediately relieved he'd made that decision. Right behind the door was a flight of stairs leading down. He let out the breath he'd been holding and proceeded down to the cellar. The stairs were old and made of wood. Every step creaked. To Stirling's sensitive ears the sound was so loud he fully expected to be confronted by a gang of thugs at any moment. He was torn between the urge to hurry to get Richard out of there and the need for quiet. Three steps to go. Two. As he put his weight on the final step he flattened himself against the wall and craned his head around the corner listening intently for any signs of danger. Behind him Sharron waited, perfectly still. In front of him stretched a corridor. There were several doors leading off it. Craig had no alternative but to try them all.

Cautiously he stepped up to the first one and put his hand on the handle. It was locked and he could hear no sound coming from the other side. If he risked bursting though and Richard wasn't in there he would alert anyone who was down here. As he was considering trying the other doors first the decision was made for him. Craig's head jerked up as he heard a toilet flush somewhere down the corridor. Without a second thought he and Sharron ran towards the sound. Just as they reached the source of the noise a door opened and a man emerged doing up his flies. He froze for a moment, mouth open. Before the man had a chance to call out a warning to anyone else who might be nearby, Stirling grabbed him by the neck and forced him face first into the opposite wall, his arm twisted behind his back.

"Where's Barrett?" Craig hissed into his ear.

The man appeared to be too stunned to talk. Stirling pulled his arm further up his back, causing the man to nod his head rapidly towards a door to his right.

"Is anybody else in there?"

"Yeah, yeah, just one guy," the man croaked.

"What's your name?"

The man didn't answer immediately so Craig applied more pressure.

"Eddie, Eddie Carter...take it easy," the man gasped out.

"And the other guy?"

"Frankie Doyle."

Stirling repressed a shudder as he remembered his last meeting with Doyle.

"Well, Carter, we're going through that door and, if you try anything, I'll break your arm. You understand," he said.

Eddie nodded frantically.

Sharron stepped to the door and put her hand on the handle as Stirling manoeuvered Carter in front of him. Slowly she opened it. As she did so, Craig could see Doyle sitting on a chair drinking a beer, his feet propped up on a table. They entered and Frankie looked up. It took a moment for him to process what he was seeing. As soon as he did he jumped up.

"Don't move!" Craig and Eddie said simultaneously.

Frankie froze, seeing Stirling's arm round Carter's neck.

"Sit down!" Craig ordered.

Doyle obliged. Stirling shoved Carter onto the chair next to his colleague and gave him a karate chop to the neck, causing him to slump down almost unconscious. At the same moment Frankie leaped up and took a swing at the American. Craig turned rapidly and, blocking the blow, he punched the man in the stomach. Doyle dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Only when he was sure both guards were incapacitated did Stirling turn to look for Barrett. Sharron was already at the opposite wall. She was cradling Richard's head in her hands, speaking to him softly. It took a moment for Craig to fully take in the state his friend was in, he seemed completely unresponsive. For a moment the American was filled with panic which quickly gave way to anger.

"If either of you two so much as move I'll kill you," he hissed.

He strode straight over to his friend and hooked his arms under Richard's. As gently as he could he lifted him up. As he did so he felt his friend tense, then he felt fear.

"It's okay Richard, it's me. It's Craig."

He turned slightly so he could keep an eye on Doyle and Carter while they freed their colleague. Frankie was still on the floor and Eddie was looking completely dazed.

"Sharron there's a penknife in my pocket, cut him free while I support him."

As Sharron cut the rope binding his hands Barrett's head fell forward on to Stirling's shoulder. Sharron knelt down, hacking at the ropes at his feet. Craig could feel Richard breathing hard against his neck, his arms hanging limply by his side. By the time Sharron had cut through the final rope Barrett was shaking uncontrollably.

"It's OK, it's OK..." Craig repeated into his ear. "Get a chair Sharron. Oh and watch out for those two," he added. While he was supporting Richard's full weight he was hardly in a position to defend the pair of them from the two thugs so it was essential that he wasn't taken off guard. True neither Eddie nor Frankie looked as though they were gearing up for an attack but he was taking no chances. When he heard the scrape of chair legs Stirling swung his colleague round and gently eased him down. Richard slumped into the chair, his head falling backwards, his eyes closed.

Craig scanned the room rapidly. He spotted the piece of wood that Johnson had used earlier and, for a few seconds, all he wanted to do was pick it up and use it to beat the living daylights out of Doyle. He'd actually taken a step towards it when Sharron's voice cut into his thoughts, reminding him that tending to Richard was their priority right now.

"Get him a drink," she said, rolling up what was left of Barrett's shirt together with his jacket, placing them behind him so as to cushion his back a little, and gently easing him backwards so that he was leaning against the make-shift pillow. Craig turned to watch the two men so that Sharron could focus her full attention on tending to Richard knowing that he had her back. Carter was staring at them in shock, Doyle was still on his hands and knees.

Eddie turned his body towards the table behind him. Thinking he was going for a weapon Craig rushed at him, grabbing him by the neck again. Carter flailed, then said,

"Fill this for 'im." He shoved an empty bottle into Stirling's face and nodded towards the basin in the corner of the room.

It took a moment to sink in. Gradually the American released his grip. Without a word he snatched the bottle from Eddie's hand. Craig filled it quickly and returned to Richard while Sharron kept her eye on Carter and Doyle.

Barrett was coming round again, still shaking, trying hard to speak. Stirling held the bottle to his friend's lips and watched as he downed half of it, pausing frequently to catch his breath.

"Craig, stop," Sharron said, taking the bottle from the American. "He'll be sick."

Stirling turned to Sharron.

"Look after him," he said gesturing towards Richard.

He strode over to Doyle and pulled him upright, yanking his arm up behind his back.

"Who else is here?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Frankie back-heeled, managed to break loose from Craig, and went for him with fists flailing.

All eyes were on the battle between Doyle and Stirling. Richard groaned and his right foot slid backwards and made contact with something under his chair. As he realised what it was, a sudden surge of anger lent him strength almost equal to normal. He bent down and picked up the object then, grasping the back of the chair with one hand, he pulled himself up to a standing position.

At the same moment Frankie twisted away from Craig and turned towards Sharron, who had started to move towards the two fighting men. Doyle's intention was to rush Sharron and use her as a shield while he got out of the room, but he never made it. He suddenly gave an inhuman scream and fell to the floor, wailing like a banshee and clutching his groin.

Craig and Sharron were momentarily paralysed with astonishment, staring at Doyle as if they couldn't believe their eyes.

Eddie looked on in amazement as Frankie continued to scream and roll around. Then he saw the cricket ball roll across the room. He looked towards Richard and guessed what had happened. He felt a twinge of second hand satisfaction as he realised that the Nemesis man had got a little revenge, then he leapt to his feet and ran to Barrett just in time to catch him as he collapsed in a dead faint. Craig immediately stepped forward to help Carter.

"Better put him on the floor," said Sharron.

The two men gently lowered Richard while Sharron knelt and started rummaging around in her bag. Eddie backed away and sat down again. Finally Sharron found what she was looking for.

"Hold his left arm up, Craig," she said as she leant Barrett's right arm on her knee. Stirling kept one eye on Eddie and Frankie while watching as Sharron first applied alcohol and then bandages to their friend's lacerated skin. Richard's right wrist was bleeding badly now that his arm was down. It was taking all Craig's will power not to abandon Sharron and start adding to Doyle's pain. Craig looked over at her. Outwardly she seemed very calm and collected but he knew that, in reality, she wasn't. The mixture of concern and anger she felt was adding to his own cocktail of emotions. She finished the right wrist and moved on to the left.

"Is 'e okay?" asked Carter.

Craig turned to Eddie, a surge of anger running through him.

"I didn't do nothin'," Carter said hurriedly as he saw the American's murderous expression. "I swear!"

"He'll be fine," Sharron replied, as much for Craig's benefit as for Eddie's.

Sharron looked back at Richard's stomach. She was worried about internal bleeding so began pressing on her friend's stomach for any of the tell-tale signs. Barrett suddenly jerked up, eyes wide.

"Sorry," Sharron said. "Richard, calm down... it's me," she added as she waited for him to relax.

"I'm just going to have a look at your arm if that's all right," she said as she put her hand over his.

Richard nodded, relaxed his grip and closed his eyes.

Eddie watched Sharron for a moment or two wondering if he should say anything about Barrett's other injuries. He made up his mind at last and raised his voice slightly to be heard above the sound of Frankie's still audible wails.

"You might like to take a look at 'is right shin and 'is other ankle," he said.

Carter quailed as Stirling advanced on him with a furious look on his face.

"You might not have inflicted the injuries yourself, but you sat there and let it happen. My God I could kill you," Craig said through gritted teeth.

"I tried," Eddie babbled as Stirling grabbed him by the shirt and tipped his chair backwards into the table, "I let 'im 'ave some kip, an' a beer..."

"That's real big of you," growled the American.

"Craig," Sharron shouted. "Craig, will you get the water. _Craig_!"

Stirling stopped himself hitting the man with some difficulty. Instead he shoved Eddie backwards, sending him crashing to the floor, and retrieved the bottle. Sharron held Richard's head as he gulped it down. Then Barrett pulled his mouth away.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Craig looked at his watch. "Six twenty" he replied.

Richard swallowed hard and attempted to speak again, but nothing came out.

"Stop talking for Pete's sake," said Stirling.

Barrett shook his head and mouthed, _'The boss will be back soon.'_

Craig turned to Eddie who was still on the floor.

"When's your boss due back?"

"I don't know. 'E said in the morning."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. Seriously," he continued, his hands up in surrender, "I don't know."

"Richard," Sharron said, "I need to check out your legs and that means I have to take your trousers off."

Barrett shook his head and put his hand over his belt to stop her.

 _'No,'_ he mouthed, _'No time - boss.'_

Sharron turned to Craig,

"We need to decide what to do. I don't think Richard should be here when the boss gets back," she said.

"I don't see we have a lot of choices here, Sharron. We'll have to wait for the back-up to arrive – it can't be long now. We can't risk carrying Richard out between us, what if we meet the boss on the stairs?" replied Craig.

"Can you walk?" Sharron asked Richard.

"Don't know," he croaked.

Barrett reached down and pulled his right trouser leg up. Sharron kept her face calm and moved down towards his battered shin. She was just about to check it out when the door burst open. The racket that Frankie was making had made it impossible for the agents to hear anyone approaching and they'd been so wrapped up in tending to Barrett that they'd failed to realise the implications of that. They were taken completely by surprise.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I don't think you have any concept of how angry I am right now

Richard jumped violently, Craig leaped up, prepared for a fight. Both of them stared at the man who hurtled through the door.

"Eddie, are you all right?" Mac said as he hauled his friend to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah."

Angrily Mac turned towards Craig.

"I thought you said..." he stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Richard. "Christ!" He paled visibly.

"Mac, I told you never to come down 'ere," Eddie said quietly.

Mac shook his head slowly. Carter put his hand on his arm but he shook it off.

"I didn't do this," Eddie continued.

"I don't care," the Scotsman replied, his voice low. "I can't do this anymore."

As the others looked on in silence, Mac walked towards the door.

"Mac!" Eddie shouted at his back.

"Hey!" Craig yelled as he rushed after him.

Mac made it to the door, slamming it on the American. Quickly Craig yanked it back open so he could chase the man down.

"Hello there Stirling, is he one of yours?"

Craig pulled up short. Two men held Mac between them. Both worked for Nemesis Internal Security.

"No, but better hold him for now er, Nicholls, said Stirling, remembering the man's name just in time. "You got guns?"

"Sure."

"OK, keep one yourself and give me the other then get Barrett out of here. We'll wait for the boss. You got any more men outside?"

"We got the place sewn up tight - not even a mouse could get in or out of here without us seeing," replied Nicholls.

"Great. Then you better get someone to take Barrett to a hospital," said Craig.

Richard looked at Sharron and shook his head, clearly very agitated.

"No, just take him back to the hotel for now. He needs rest and I can check him out properly later," she said.

Stirling sensed Barrett's agitation and figured he'd been through enough without being forced to undergo the indignity of an extensive examination at a hospital right now, so he said,

"OK the hotel it is, just you make sure someone stays with him though, I don't want him left alone. Now go on, go, get him out of here!"

"Just a moment," Sharron said. "Richard," she continued as she searched through her bag, "I'm going to give you a shot."

She flicked the end of the syringe and then slowly injected the liquid into her friend's arm. As she watched she saw his muscles relax visibly and his eyes become unfocussed. Just before he lost consciousness a tiny ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

Craig drew one of the security men to one side and spoke to him in a low voice, "I think Mac, the guy you caught when he was on his way out here, is on the level but I can't be sure. Until we've rounded everyone up we need to know exactly where he is and what he's doing. We can't risk him taking it into his head to try and warn the boss about what's happened. If he _is_ on the level I don't want to antagonise him and, if he isn't, I don't want to tip him off that we suspect him. We don't want him here, things are quite complicated enough. We can do without having to second guess what he might do. I want you to take him back to the hotel with you and Barrett then keep him there until I let you know it's safe to let him go. You'll have your hands full with Richard so make sure Nicholls goes along with you. I'm sure you can manage Mac on your own once Barrett's settled into bed at the hotel so Nicholls can come back here then, OK?"

Sharron turned away from Richard and nodded to the two waiting security men.

"He's ready," she said.

* * *

Stirling breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his friend being carried out of the cellar by Nicholls and Mac, who'd stepped forward to help, the other security man following closely behind them.

Craig paused for a moment in the doorway watching them help Richard down the corridor, his feet dragging along the ground.

Behind him, Doyle levered himself on to his chair and whispered something to Carter.

"Shut up!" Eddie yelled. "This is all your fault, you psychotic bastard!"

"Oy Mac!" Frankie shouted as Craig began to shut the door. "Yer well out of it mate. Yer boyfriend's been 'aving quite a time with Barrett!"

Carter roared with rage and he punched Doyle hard, knocking him down. He grabbed him as he fell and thumped him again and again. For a moment Craig let him then, realising the man needed to be conscious to give them any information, he handed the gun to Sharron and dragged Eddie off him. He made a mental note to tell Richard all about it as he hauled Frankie up and plonked him onto the chair.

"Right, start talking! Does your boss sleep on the premises?"

Doyle didn't reply but Carter answered,

"No."

Craig turned back to Frankie,

"When is your boss due back?"

"I don't know, and if I did I wouldn't tell ya," Doyle replied sullenly.

"What's his name?"

"Piss off, I 'aint tellin' you nothin'," Frankie said.

Craig walked over to the box on the floor.

"Hey, what's this? Is this what you used on Barrett? Maybe we should see how long you can hold out if we try it on _you_ ," he said threateningly to Frankie.

"You wouldn't do that an' ya know it," sneered Doyle.

"Oh yeah?" Craig said as he walked over to the machine and flipped the on switch. "I don't think you have any concept of how angry I am right now."

"Ya wouldn't dare!" Frankie retorted, his voice sounding a little more worried than he'd intended.

"What setting do you think?" Stirling continued, as he turned the dial.

"Craig," Sharron warned.

"Yeah, you listen to 'er mate."

Stirling uncoiled the cord and moved the device closer.

"So what do you say?" the American said with a smile.

He stopped suddenly as he moved his hand nearer to Doyle and turned to Sharron.

"Gunfire," she confirmed.

"Wot?" Frankie looked confused.

"Watch them," he ordered. "I'll be back."

* * *

Stirling ran from the room and up the stairs. As he burst out of the front door on to the street he came to an abrupt halt. Lying on the pavement was Johnson, howling in pain, clutching his leg. To his right a couple of agents ran up.

"The other two got away," one of the agents said as the other began to apply pressure to the bullet wound in Johnson's leg.

"Which other two?" Craig asked.

"A guy, in his forties maybe, and a girl who was driving. I tried to shoot out the tyres but I hit the back window. Still, maybe I winged one of them," he continued.

"Did you get a look at the car?" Stirling asked.

"Yeah, it was a white Alpha, F 33..."

"66," Craig cut in.

"Oh?

"That's Barrett's car."

"Ah."

"Best not tell him you shot out his rear window, at least for the moment," Craig continued.

"No. Er, I'll get the police looking for it."

"You do that."

"Do you want us to take the two down the cellar in for you?" asked the security guard.

"Sure, but just give Miss Macready and me ten minutes alone with them first, OK? And lend me your gun will you." replied the American.

"Right, you got ten minutes then we come and get them."

* * *

Back in the cellar the two men sat sullenly as Sharron stood with the gun trained on them. She turned as Craig entered and motioned him over to her.

"I don't think we'll be getting anything out of him," she said quietly, pointing at Frankie. "The other one? Maybe."

"All right. You take Doyle upstairs to the others then come back down here."

Sharron nodded and ordered Frankie to get up.

"You keep yer mouth shut Eddie," Doyle hissed under his breath as he got up and headed for the door.

* * *

Once they were alone Stirling approached Carter, turned the chair Frankie had just vacated so its back was facing Eddie and straddled it. The man was staring at the floor glumly.

"So, ..."

"I ain't no snitch!" Carter burst out.

"I can see why," Craig continued. "I don't suppose anybody crosses your boss."

"You got that right. 'E'd string me up."

"Like you did to Barrett?"

"I didn't do none of that!"

"But you'll be charged with it, and from what I've seen of that friend of yours he'll try to pin it on you."

"Frankie wouldn't stitch me up."

"If you say so."

Eddie said nothing.

"What I don't get is why you'd be interested in a code. You look like the kinda guys who're into banks, extortion, smuggling. That sort of thing."

Carter shrugged.

"So why codes?"

"I dunno."

"The boss didn't tell you?"

"He don't tell us nothin' about that side of things."

"What side of things?"

Carter clammed up.

"Listen Eddie, if you co-operate I'll put in a good word for you," Craig continued. "And I don't just mean with the police."

Carter looked up sharply. "You leave Mac out of this, he aint got nothin' to do with it!"

"But I'm sure he's an interested party. Plus, if your boss thinks he's a security risk, then I wouldn't give much for Mac's chances of convincing him otherwise."

Eddie thought over his options. He wanted out. He wanted Mac to listen to him. He didn't want Mac hurt because of him. But he didn't want to end up dead either.

"I can put that boss of yours away," Craig urged. "I just need your help."

Carter paused for a moment and then said, "I don't know wot it's about, but usually we _are_ into other stuff, like you say, bank jobs an' such. But sometimes things like this 'appen. We kidnap some bloke an' the boss gets information out of 'im. I dunno wot it's for or why the boss would be interested, an' that's all I know."

"All right, I'm going to need a list of names of all the guys your boss has kidnapped for information," said Craig.

"Aint sure I can remember now. I'll give it a go though," replied Eddie.

"Just do what you can. I'm going to have you sit with one of our artist guys and have you describe them so we can get some idea of who they were. Finally I shall want you to take a look through a bunch of photos too - see if you recognize any of the boss' victims that way. OK?"

"OK. Then you'll tell Mac I helped you? You'll let me see 'im right?" asked Eddie.

"If he's willing to see you yeah."

Craig got to his feet.

"Let's go," he said.

* * *

With some difficulty Nicholls, the other Nemesis agent - who was called Harrison - and Mac got Barrett out of the Scotsman's car. Mac and Harrison stood on either side of Richard, hooked his arms round each of their shoulders and headed to the door.

Fortunately it was early, so no guests were in reception. They tried to block Barrett's face from view as Nicholls picked up his room keys from the man on the front desk.

"He's had a bit too much to drink," said Nicholls as he stuffed the keys into his pocket.

Just as they reached the lift Barrett started to wake up. They bundled him inside quickly. He was semi-conscious and confused. As the doors closed Richard rammed his left foot into Harrison's shin, while yanking his arm from the agent's grip.

"Christ, Barrett!" Harrison yelled, clutching his leg. "It's me, Pete Harrison. You're back at the hotel!"

"Who's this?" Richard croaked, pointing to Mac who he was now holding in a head lock.

"That's some fella called Mac, he's fine, he's with us."

The lift door opened. The man from reception stood there staring at the scene inside.

"What's going...?" the startled employee said.

Harrison hit the button to the 9th floor quickly and the doors closed, leaving the very alarmed junior employee wondering if he should wake the manager.

As the lift began to move Richard leaned back against the wall, freeing Mac. When the doors opened again he allowed himself to be supported down the hall and into his room. Once in the bedroom Harrison helped him out of his clothes and into Stirling's bed. Richard thought about pointing out the error, but Craig's was nearest and the room was beginning to spin. By the time his head hit the pillow he was out cold.

"Right then, I reckon I can take it from here so you'd better get back to Stirling," Harrison said to Nicholls.

"Ok, see you later," the other agent said, handing his gun to his colleague as he headed out of the door.

"Do you want me to stay with Barrett so you can get on with the job you got?" asked Mac.

"Sorry, no offence or anything, but I know nothing about you. I'm staying," replied Harrison.

"OK, I'll go home then. Stirling has the address if you need me for anything."

"Er no, sorry that's not an option either. Stirling said to hold you for now, that means you stick around so I know where you are," said Harrison, raising his gun slightly to remind Mac not to try anything rash.

"OK I'll stay and you don't need a gun to make me, asking me is enough, but I don't expect you take my word for it so I'll deal with it for now. I've no desire to starve at the same time though. At least order a meal from room service. Goodness knows how long we'll be holed up here." said Mac.

He gestured towards Richard,

"I can't see that poor sod waking up any time soon."

He picked up the room service menu and started looking down the list.

"Well, what do you say?" he asked.

"OK, order what you like... within reason," capitulated Harrison.

* * *

Craig dropped Sharron off at the hotel and drove away. He needed to get information from Johnson and, as he made his way to the hospital, he went through the questions in his head, mostly to keep his mind off how worried he was about Richard. Sure, Sharron thought his injuries were superficial, but what if she was wrong?

Around forty minutes later he pulled up at St James' Hospital, got out and began looking for the other Nemesis agents. Eventually he found out which room Johnson was in and walked up to the third floor. Outside the room stood a Nemesis security man who turned to Craig as he approached.

"Hey," the man said.

"How's Johnson?" Stirling asked.

"He came through surgery fine, he's sedated for the moment."

"When are the doctors going to wake him up?"

"Not sure," the other agent replied. "They got a bit nasty when I tried to question him. I'm not allowed in the room now."

Craig opened the door. Johnson was asleep, his leg in bandages.

"OK," Craig said, "I'm going to have a word with those doctors."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

You and your friends will have to leave.

Sharron knocked on the door. After a moment Harrison opened it.

"Oh hello," he said as he wiped spaghetti sauce from his mouth.

"How is he?" the blonde young woman asked tersely as she entered the main room.

"He's asleep."

Sharron kept going to the open door leading off to the right. Richard was inside the room lying on his side. His head was turned towards her and his eyes were shut. _'Well,'_ she thought, _'this is as good a time as ever.'_

She stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

* * *

In the cold light of day Richard's injuries seemed all the more shocking. Sharron took a minute to compose herself before pulling a chair close to the bed. She sat and studied him. His face was still swollen and bruised but she thought it was already looking a little better than when they'd found him. Likewise, some of the electrical burns were starting to heal. What she really needed to check out were his legs. Holding her breath she pulled the sheet down as gently as possible. The last thing she needed was him waking up at this point.

Sharron had just finished checking Richard's injuries, and was breathing a sigh of relief that there appeared to be no permanent damage done, when the telephone rang. She crossed the room and picked it up.

"Hello."

"Miss Macready?"

"Yes."

"It's the manager here. I've had another serious complaint. I've been reliably informed that you are in that room with three men, two of whom aren't even registered at this hotel. You can't carry on like this Miss Macready, I'm trying to run a respectable establishment here. It really won't do. You and your friends will have to leave."

"I'll send someone down to discuss the situation," Sharron said.

She put the phone down, walked back into the main room and quickly explained the situation to Harrison.

"Don't worry Miss, I'll wait with Mac until you've finished checking Barrett over then I'll go and sort things out," the man said and left the room.

* * *

Sharron walked back into the bedroom, she'd have to re-bandage Richard's wrists and it'd be better to do it while he was unconscious since she wouldn't be able to give him any more pain killers for a couple of hours. She unwound the first bandage as carefully as possible, waiting for a moment whenever her friend's hand twitched. She was just starting the second one when she noticed Mac standing in the doorway.

"Could you get a glass of water?" she asked him.

Mac walked off to the bathroom and Sharron began to remove the last bit of bandage. As she did so Richard woke up, pulling his hand from hers.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I need to do this."

Barrett nodded, inhaling sharply as she peeled the last section away completely.

"They're starting to heal," she said as she wound a fresh bandage around Richard's right wrist. She glanced at the burn a little higher up his arm.

"Lighter?" she asked.

"Yes." There was a slight pause then Richard looked away as he said bitterly, almost to himself, "Mine."

"He used _your_ ligh..." Sharron began angrily. She broke off abruptly at the expression in her friend's eyes that clearly said 'leave it.'

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, changing the subject rapidly. "Mac's gone to fetch one for you."

"Mac?"

"Carter's boyfriend, I've asked him to get you some water. I'm going to ring Tremayne."

Sharron tied off the dressing and left the room so that she could use the phone in the other bedroom. Richard closed his eyes. He opened them again as he heard a sound to his left. He looked up to see Mac framed in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. Barrett reached for the sheet to cover himself but the other man had already seen the extent of the damage.

"My God!" Mac exclaimed.

The colour drained from his skin and he almost turned back but he managed to get himself under control and walked into the room, sat down and offered Richard the glass, keeping his hand on the bottom of it as the Nemesis man drank.

"I'm sorry," Mac said quietly.

"I don't remember you being there," Richard replied, his voice sounding a little better for the water.

"Still...I..." Mac lapsed into silence for a moment and tipped up the glass a little to help Barrett finish off the drink. "You don't want to hear about this," he said eventually, shaking his head.

"Eddie didn't do this," Richard replied.

"I don't care, how he could stand by and..."

"He didn't," Barrett swallowed hard before continuing. "He let me get some sleep, tried to keep Doyle away from me, and gave me a drink." The end of his sentence was barely audible.

Mac stared at the floor. "He's scared of his boss."

"I'm not surprised," Richard replied ruefully. "You got a cigarette?"

"Sure." Mac lit one and handed it over.

"Oh, that's going to help," Sharron said, standing in the doorway. Richard almost smiled.

"Tremayne's in London for a meeting," she continued, "he'll be in touch later today. I'm going to order room service, any preferences?"

Barrett shook his head. A second later he looked up. "No anchovies!" he gasped out urgently.

"Right." Sharron smiled slightly as she turned back into the main room.

"Seriously I mean it - I am truly sorry," Mac repeated after a moment.

"Forget it, you weren't there, you didn't know and your Eddie... well he did what he could for me. It wasn't his fault that Frankie..." he shuddered and his voice trailed away.

"But I should have known. Eddie never calls me when he's on a job...but this time he did. I should have known he was in way over his head. I should have done something."

"Mac, leave it will you. None of this was your fault and I don't blame you or Eddie for any of it. Let it go. Just try and help us as much as you can so we can put away the people _really_ responsible, okay?"

"OK...and er...thanks," replied Mac quietly.

* * *

It had taken Craig a while to find the right doctor to talk to and then the conversation had been less than satisfactory. Dr Jones had refused to let Craig wake Johnson up for at least the next two hours, so the Nemesis agent had grabbed some food in a cafe opposite the hospital and then headed back up to the third floor about an hour later. As he approached he realised that nobody was standing guard outside the room so quickened his pace.

"...don't understand it," Dr Jones was saying.

Two Nemesis agents and Nicholls stood inside the room watching as the doctor and a nurse checked over Johnson's body. Nicholls turned.

"He's dead."

"What?" exclaimed Craig.

"Phil here went into the room, realised he wasn't breathing and called the doctor."

"I thought they said he went through surgery fine," Stirling said.

"He did," replied the doctor. "This shouldn't have happened. We'll know more after the autopsy, but it looks like he bled to death."

"Could that have happened naturally?" Craig asked.

"Only if he was a haemophiliac," replied the doctor, "which he wasn't. Or if we missed something, and we'll find out about that soon enough."

Stirling took a deep breath to try to get himself under control. This was the last thing they needed, yet another line of enquiry closed.

"I need a list of everyone who had access to this room."

"Well...there's the three of us and a few nurses... and Dr Jones here."

"Was there someone on the door at all times?" Craig asked.

The three men nodded.

"I need the nurses' names," Stirling continued.

"Ask the ward sister to arrange that," Dr Jones ordered, turning to the nearest nurse who rushed off almost before the sentence was finished.

Ten minutes later she returned with a list of five names. Craig looked it over.

"I'll deal with this," he said as he left the room.

* * *

Sharron glanced over at Richard as she hurried to answer the phone.

"Craig here - how's the patient?"

"He's doing pretty well. He's just finished eating," Sharron replied.

"That's great. Is he up to a little work do you think?"

"I think it might do him good - you know Richard, as soon as he starts to feel OK he's eager to get going again. Nothing too strenuous at the moment though," replied Sharron.

"Terrific, I have the perfect job."

He quickly explained what had happened with Johnson then continued,

"Right now our men are rounding up the nurses, as soon as we can find somewhere suitable to take them, they'll all have to be interviewed. I reckon Richard will be able to manage that all right, heck he might even enjoy it. If you think there might be a problem you can babysit him a bit though."

"Nemesis has hired the whole top floor of this hotel - we had to placate the management somehow. He can do the interviews here," Sharron said.

"Good idea. I'll have them sent over. Gotta go now," replied Craig.

Sharron replaced the receiver and poked her head round the door of the bedroom.

"Are you okay to get up Richard?" she asked.

Barrett looked a little unsure.

"It's just that Craig's sending five nurses over for you to interview and I think it's appropriate you have some clothes on."

"Five nurses?" Richard asked, looking rather more enthusiastic.

"That's right."

"Well, I suppose. If you insist." He glanced around the room "Damn, wrong room."

Richard swung his legs slowly out of the bed and sat up gingerly. As he tested out his right leg he gathered the sheet around his waist. Sharron put a hand out. It was testament to how bad he was feeling that he took it without hesitation and hauled himself up.

"Well?" Sharron asked.

"Not so bad," he replied, his voice almost back to normal. "Amazing isn't it."

"Yes, amazing what the prospect of talking to five nurses can do for you," Sharron said, smiling.

"Shut up, Macready," Richard replied with a wry grin as he made his way out of Craig's bedroom with only a slight limp. Mac looked up from the couch, surprised to see him walking about. As Barrett crossed the main room there was a knock at the door.

"That can't be them!" he exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I'll head them off."

But just as Sharron got to the door it opened.

"Oh," she said. "Hello, sir."

"I was in London so I thought..." Tremayne stopped abruptly, looking over Sharron's shoulder at Richard who stared back for a moment, then said,

"I'm going to have a shower." He turned and headed into his room.

"How is he?" asked Tremayne, gesturing towards Barrett.

"Better than you might expect," replied Sharron cautiously. "He's going to interview the nurses that are on their way over."

"Is that a good idea? No disrespect to you Sharron but don't you think he needs to be checked out properly at a hospital? From what I've been told about what those men did to him he needs more than the home nursing he's had so far," said Tremayne.

Sharron debated what to say. If her colleague was checked over at a hospital the doctor would be certain to notice that he was healing at a phenomenal rate and that could lead to some very awkward questions. On the other hand, if she said he didn't need checking, that would also arouse suspicion. She decided to let Richard handle it and to help him out by trying to buy him a little time.

"Maybe we should ask Richard what he wants to do," she suggested. "After all it is his body. In the meantime though I think he should be allowed to interview those nurses. It'll take his mind off what he's been through which will be a good thing."

"You might be right about that. I'll reserve judgment until I've seen for myself how he is," replied Tremayne.

* * *

Richard wasn't really listening as he walked in to his bedroom and shut the door. He entered the bathroom and dropped the sheet on the floor before turning on the shower. As he waited for the water to warm up he stood, his hands gripping the sink, and looked into the mirror. He immediately wished he hadn't, he looked a mess.

He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on staying upright. He'd not really had time to process what had happened and he really didn't want to with Tremayne in the other room. Unfortunately, now he was finally alone, it was a struggle for him to fight the feelings that surfaced. With his eyes shut it was hard not to see Frankie's face, or flinch at the thought of what he'd done. Turning away from the mirror, he opened his eyes, staring hard at a crack in the tiling on the far wall. He tried to empty his mind, breathing as slowly as he could. Then he stepped into the shower.

* * *

"Are you all right?" asked Tremayne in response to Sharron's sharp intake of breath.

"Yes, yes of course," she replied, regaining her composure immediately. "As I was saying, Mac here has been trying to help."

"He works for them?"

"No, his friend Carter does. He's been co-operating with us as well. Neither of them know much though, I'm afraid, and now Johnson's dead there'll be no help from him either. What about the other two men who were arrested, did they come up with anything useful?"

Tremayne thought for a moment.

"I need to talk to you privately. I'll call an agent to take Mac to another room. Do you know when Stirling is due back?"

"He didn't say, but I doubt that he'll be very long."

"Well, I'd prefer to talk to all three of you so it'll wait for the time being," Tremayne said as he picked up the phone and started to dial. He spoke into the telephone,

"I need an agent at the hotel right now." He paused a moment then repeated, "An agent, at the hotel at once." Another pause.

"Look what kind of a secretary are you, surely you understand plain English. I - need - an - agent - sent - over- immediately," he said slowly and clearly.

"What do you mean you're not a secretary? Well why are you answering this phone then?... Oh, I see... Oh, I didn't know... yes well I'm very sorry... yes, yes I do know what time it is... yes I understand... look I really am most awfully sorry but… yes I will be more careful next time... yes, I'm sure the manager will be very annoyed that you've been disturbed once again... I can only apologise... I can assure you it won't happen again. Goodbye Mrs. Hunter."

Tremayne turned to Sharron.

"How do you get an outside line on this phone?" he asked testily.

In spite of everything Sharron could barely suppress her laughter as she realised Tremayne had direct dialled Mrs. Hunter's room by accident. She pulled herself together with an effort and explained to him that he needed to dial reception and go through the switchboard in order to make an outside call.

* * *

Richard finished his shower and went into his room. Half an hour later he was still there and Sharron had dealt with interviewing the first of the five nurses. The girl hadn't been much help, she'd last seen Johnson three hours before his death. Sharron was a good judge of people and was confident that the nurse was telling the truth so she'd thanked her and told her to leave a contact number and go home.

During this time Tremayne had been holed up in Craig's room on the telephone. Sharron had been able to overhear parts of the many conversations he was having, but much of it had been strangely difficult to piece together.

As she was wondering if she should see if Richard was all right she sensed Craig in the corridor. Seconds later the door from the hall opened and he stalked in.

"Well that was a complete waste of time. I trek all the way over to Scotland Yard to try to throw my weight around about those ID's and they tell me they can't talk to me. Then I discover Tremayne's beaten me to it, the sly old..."

Sharron waved at him frantically.

"What?"

"He's in your room," she whispered.

"Tremayne?"

She nodded.

"Oops."

"Look," Sharron continued, "can you check if Richard's all right, he's been in there an awfully long time."

"Sure, how's he holding up?"

"If Tremayne asks, he's doing fine."

Stirling nodded and walked over to Barrett's room. He knocked and walked in. Richard was doing up his shirt.

"Hello there," Craig said breezily.

"Come in why don't you," Richard replied a little sharply.

"Tremayne's in my room, can I borrow a shirt?"

"Er, sure."

Stirling took one from his friend's wardrobe and stripped off as Richard finished dressing. Craig saw his colleague wince a couple of times but didn't mention it. When they both walked back into the main room Tremayne was there, he looked tense.

"So you went over to Scotland Yard, Stirling?" Tremayne asked.

"Er, yes sir. They told me you'd already been in touch with them."

"Well, I thought I'd hurry up the officers looking for those men you arrested. I woke a few people up this morning."

"So that's why they were so pleased," replied Craig with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes," Tremayne gave his operative a look, "I demanded action, and action is what I got."

Tremayne bent down and pulled a number of photos from his briefcase.

"These are the two you arrested yesterday, right?"

Richard took the photographs and nodded.

"The older one is Jerry Mayes," Tremayne continued. "The younger one didn't come up in the records."

"That must be Frankie's brother," Richard cut in.

"Is one of these Frankie?" Tremayne spread a number of photographs across the coffee table. Richard sat and scanned them, picking out the faces he recognised.

"These are known associates of this man." Tremayne gave Barrett another photograph. "Was that their boss?"

Richard stared at it for a moment. Outwardly he seemed calm but Craig felt his pulse race for a moment.

"Yes, that's him," Barrett replied, his voice only slightly tense.

"Unfortunately the police have never been able to pin anything on him, they don't even have his real name. Here's a list of his aliases and known addresses." Tremayne handed a piece of paper to Stirling.

"What's this about, Tremayne?" Craig asked abruptly. "Why are you here?"

Tremayne paused for a moment.

"I'm here because I don't know who I can trust, or whether Nemesis communications are being monitored."

That got their attention.

Tremayne continued. "Four days ago the UN sent me copies of documents supposedly written in a new code..."

"The Karpov code?" Richard cut in.

"Indeed, the Karpov code. They requested that our cryptographers attempt to break it. They also told me to put them under 24 hour surveillance, for their own protection. So, I gave the papers to all our people three days ago and Internal Security watched them. The only cryptographer not in Geneva was you, Richard. You were due back from London, at which point I would have given you the documents."

"Except I didn't come back."

"No, the next thing I knew Craig called to tell me the two of you had been picked up and questioned about the code. I was told by the UN not to mention it to anybody outside the cryptography department. It wasn't until I dug a little deeper that I discovered that the code didn't in fact exist. The documents were faked up to look like they were coded messages so I risked calling you here. By that time they'd picked up Richard again."

"So it was a set up," Barrett said quietly.

"It would appear so," replied Tremayne uncomfortably. "I presume that somebody thought you'd been given the papers and that you'd be the most likely to crack it. You do have a reputation for breaking the unbreakable."

"Lucky me."

"So we have a leak at the UN?" Sharron said.

"It may be worse than that. Neither the UN, nor the cryptographers should have access to Nemesis operation details. They shouldn't have known you were in London, let alone which hotel you were staying in."

"We have a leak in Nemesis?" Craig said incredulously.

"It looks highly likely, and possibly more than one."

"And you have no idea why the UN set up the false code?" Stirling asked.

"None, although I'm working on it. For the moment your priority is to find _this_ man."

Tremayne pointed at the picture Richard was still holding. "Find him, and maybe we'll start getting answers."

Tremayne picked up his briefcase.

"And Barrett, go to the hospital for a check up before you do anything else." He strode to the door, "I'm heading back to Geneva. I'll be in touch if I find out anything."

Tremayne seemed keen to leave before the full implications of what he had just said sank in. Without another word he left, leaving the three of them in shocked silence.

* * *

"OK so what now?" asked Craig after a pause.

"Did anyone catch the last thing Tremayne asked me to do? I was so stunned by what he said before that I missed it," said Richard.

"Sorry, I must have missed it too," said the other two in unison.

"I think we need to get an identikit picture of Sonja done, someone must know who she is. Richard can you enlist Mrs. Hunter's help getting the picture done - she seems to have had a really good look at the woman," said Craig.

"Me? Can't Sharron do it, or you?"

"I can't," said Sharron, "I'm blonde remember?"

"Richard, you need to take it easy for a little while, a nice sit down and chat with Mrs. H will do you the world of good. Anyway she'll be feeling very sympathetic towards you, after all you're living proof of her theory about blondes being the evil incarnate," laughed Craig.

Richard sighed dramatically.

"Well, at least give me some more painkillers before I go."

Sharron suppressed a smile as she handed him a couple of pills. "Don't take these for an hour or so."

"Maybe I should talk to those nurses before I tackle Mrs Hunter?"

"Sonja's the priority," said Craig.

"Perhaps I should check with Mac first, he might know her?"

"Er, well yes, maybe. In fact, we need to send him home soon, we can't hold him forever. Be sure to ask him how he escaped from the car, I can't figure that one out."

"All right, Mac it is." Richard looked a lot happier.

"Okay Sharron, let's start hitting this list of Tremayne's," Craig said as he pulled on his jacket and headed for the door.

As soon as they had left Richard downed the pills, gathered up the photos and went to find Mac.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Well, I warn you, it's a long story...

"I've seen some of the faces," said Mac as he looked over the photos. "I don't know their names though. I don't exactly socialise with them."

"All right, how about a young lady called Sonja? She's blonde, about five foot four inches tall, blue eyes, pretty..."

"Not sure I'd notice," Mac said with a slight smile.

"Do you know anything about her?"

"Frankie's mentioned her, he's got a bit of a thing for her I think. Don't know her last name though."

"So you know Frankie Doyle?"

"Not really, but he and Eddie go way back, they lived near each other when they were kids. Frankie turns up sometimes to pick up Eddie for a job," Mac continued, suddenly more subdued.

"What do _you_ do?" Richard asked. "For a living I mean?"

"I work for the council."

"If you don't mind me asking, how the heck did you end up with Eddie?"

Mac hesitated for a moment. "We met one night in the city, in a... er... club. He told me he was a mechanic. After about a couple of months of us... er... seeing each other, he showed up at my place looking like someone had attacked him. I wanted to call the police. He didn't want me to. We got into an argument and he told me what he really did. I didn't see him for a while after that, but then... well, I decided he wasn't a lost cause. He just grew up with all of that so he thought it was normal." Mac looked up. "Sorry, you probably didn't want that much detail."

Richard shrugged. "For what it's worth, I don't think he's a lost cause either."

"It was really Frankie's influence that sent him down that road in the first place," Mac continued. "Not that I'm excusing Eddie for any of it, he's a grown man, he knew the score. But, all the same, I reckon he'd have got out much sooner if Doyle hadn't been around. Thing is, they've known each other years and years and... I'm sorry I'm running on a bit aren't I?"

"Well just a little I suppose," Barrett said with a small smile. "But I think I'd like to hear the story all the same. It'll give me a excuse to rest up a bit more."

That wasn't the true reason. Richard was secretly hoping that hearing about Doyle as a child might help stop him thinking about what he'd suffered. Frankie had been haunting his mind every time his guard was down. He'd even had a couple of flashbacks. Maybe being able to visualise the man as something other than a sadistic monster would banish the thoughts he was desperate to shut out. He wasn't about to share that information with Mac though.

"Well, I warn you, it's a long story but you can stop me when you've heard enough," the Scotsman said. He paused for a moment, to gather his thoughts, then launched into the narrative.

"Eddie and Frankie lived near to each other when they were kids. They went to the same schools... and played truant together from them too. The main thing that drew them together in the first place and that binds them together now is Eddie's ma. She's tough, from the East End, and she's an amazing lady. Anyway the Doyle parents weren't up to much and Frankie and Billy were left to their own devices a lot. Frankie's ma and pa used to have lots of fist fights and the kids sometimes spent the night shivering on the streets to avoid getting hit themselves..." He broke off. "Look are you sure you want to hear all this? It was years ago, it can't be important to your investigation."

"Yes, yes, go on." Richard said a little impatiently.

"OK... Well apparently one night Billy wasn't quick enough on his feet and he got a real pasting. Frankie was a bit faster and he made it out of the house okay. He was just a kid and he was too scared to go back and try and help his brother. He hid near the house so he could see the window and, as soon as the lights went out, he sneaked back in. He found Billy unconscious and covered in blood. Frankie didn't dare call for help for fear of getting battered himself. Most of the neighbours round that way kept well clear of the Doyle parents anyway so there was no-one he could go to. He cleaned his brother up as best he could and cradled him in his lap all night long, just praying he'd wake up and everything would be all right. Billy did come round eventually but he was never the same again and Frankie's always blamed himself for that. He reckons that, if he'd stuck around to help, his parents might not have beaten his brother unconscious. The guilt Frankie feels about that is one of the reasons why he's always so protective of him. Anyone who touches Billy generally lives to regr..." Mac saw Barrett's face change and broke off abruptly. "Oh God I'm sorry, you didn't need reminding of that."

"Just carry on with the story," said Richard tersely.

"A couple of days later Eddie skipped school and went for a walk along the river. He found Frankie there, crying his heart out. Doyle told Eddie all about the batterings and Eddie told his ma. She went down to where Frankie was and told him that, if they ever needed a place to stay, he and Billy were to come to her house. As you can imagine, the two of them took her up on her offer... many times. She used to feed them too, when the Doyle parents had drunk and smoked all the money away. She knows that Billy's a 'bit slow' and she's been really good to him. Frankie's very grateful to her, for himself as well as his brother. A roof over your head when you need it and food in your stomach goes a long way for a child and Frankie knew she did it out of kindness, not for what she could get out of it. Sometimes she'd even hide the two of them and stand up to their drunken mother or father when they came looking for the kids so they could beat them for some imagined - or maybe real - bit of naughtiness the boys had committed. ..So that's the story... sad I know, but it still doesn't excuse what Doyle's like."

Richard didn't want to think about that and made haste to change the subject.

"What about Eddie's dad? Where does he fit into the story?" he asked.

"I'm not sure where he is, his ma never talks about him," Mac replied. "Maybe he's banged up or perhaps he walked out on them. Whatever, Eddie's ma brought him up single-handedly. She doesn't like it that he played truant and that he breaks the law and stuff like that, but she's enough of a realist to accept that it's going to happen whatever she says or does. So she just keeps her head down and does what she can for him. Like I said before, Eddie's ma's faces facts, she always suspected her son was gonna prefer men to women and she recognised that having Frankie around, although he could be _very_ nasty, would be a protection for Eddie. Not that this was her motivation for looking out for the Doyle kids, because it wasn't, from her point of view it was just a rather nice side effect of her kindness. Frankie's gratitude to her meant that he'd protect Eddie from the type of blokes that like to beat up on gays, even at the risk of being called bent himself. Not that the gay bashers are likely to make _that_ particular mistake twice. Frankie is a _very_ bad enemy to make," he finished.

"So how did Doyle feel when he found out Eddie was gay? He doesn't strike me as the tolerant type," Richard said with a touch of irony.

"When Frankie first realised that Eddie preferred men it didn't bother him that much - he certainly would never have risked a rift with Eddie's ma by making things tough for her son because of it. He might not acknowledge that _he_ needs Eddie's ma but he knows Billy does. He's also been friends with Eddie more or less all his life. He knows Eddie isn't interested in him for... er... in... er.. oh you know what I mean! Doyle isn't keen on gays in general but he doesn't really see Eddie that way except when he's really mad and then it's just a convenient thing to taunt him with. Most of the time they're just old childhood mates and who Eddie sleeps with hasn't changed that. Also, sometimes it's quite useful - if he and Eddie go anywhere together and see an attractive girl the field 's clear for Frankie.

As for Eddie, Doyle has always been around. He's grateful to him for taking on the 'gay bashers' even though it put Frankie personally at risk. He also knows that the Doyle kids had a rough deal when they were handing out parents and that violence was a way of life in their household so that Frankie has some excuse for being as he is. Eddie's always been confident that, although Doyle can be very sadistic, he can usually rein him in if necessary. So he was never that worried about that aspect of him. In general they get on fine, know each other's character really well and are both in the same line of business. Under normal circumstances they can have a laugh together and they like the same sort of things - drinking, cards, stuff like that.

There's not much else to say really. The one thing I'm sure of now though is that, when Eddie has time to think it through, he'll realise that their friendship has reached the end of the line. When he and I met he'd never been much bothered by the more violent aspect of his 'job'. It was just a means to an end as far as he was concerned. He was never a sadist and he didn't ever use violence for its own sake but he was used to other people in the gang, including Doyle, getting carried away. Knocking around with me opened his eyes to what kind of person he was becoming and he didn't like what he saw. I've shown him a different way of life and he's been wanting out for a while now. We've talked about it now and again and it's been obvious that he's become increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of using violence and torture to get information out of people. He's not soft, don't get me wrong, it's not cowardice that's changed him. It's just that he's realised that what he does isn't as normal as he'd once thought and that it's perfectly possible to find work that doesn't necessitate beating up on people on a regular basis.

What happened to you was the final straw. I've realised that, when he called me, he was desperate to find a way out and I could see how shaken Eddie was when I burst in to that cellar just after your friends had rescued you. I just wish, really wish I'd done something to help you sooner," the Scotsman said.

"Mac just leave it will you, you weren't to know. Let's just concentrate on the here and now and do what we can to make sure the people responsible are caught. I don't blame you for anything, it wasn't your fault," Barrett said.

"Thanks," Mac replied. "Sorry I can't help you much. I stay as far away from that lot as possible."

"I'm not surprised," Richard said ruefully. "Look, if you think of anything that might help, get in touch all right?"

"I can go?"

"Sure, but I need you to leave your number and I'd like the answer to one more question."

"Go ahead."

"Well it's Craig's question really. He wants to know how you got free from the car after he'd cuffed you to the steering wheel."

Mac grinned.

"I bet he does. Well your friend was quite right in his judgement that, under normal circumstances' no-one in that area would show too much interest in anything that happened outside any of the warehouses. What he didn't bargain for was that a friend of Eddie's had pulled a job out West a little earlier and had decided to lie low in one of the other warehouses until the heat was off. I'm not sure what his real name is, I only know him as Corky. Anyway he arrived about a ten or so minutes after your friend left me and recognised the car. He wouldn't have approached it but for the fact that he could see I was struggling like mad to get free. Even so he waited a few minutes just make sure it was safe to investigate. Anyway he's rather a dab hand with locks, that's how he got his nickname – apparently he can pop a lock like a cork from a bottle. So, as soon as he saw the predicament I was in, he set me free. He offered to help me out but I could see he wasn't too keen - worried about a run in with Eddie's boss I suppose. So I told him he'd done enough already. He took off and I came down to the cellar to see what was happening."

"Craig will be pleased he didn't slip up anyway. Thanks again for everything you are doing to help us."

Mac hesitated before leaving, he seemed to be trying to come to a decision about something.

"You okay? You remembered something else?" asked Richard eagerly.

"Er no, sorry. It's just that … it's just... erm."

"Just what?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Mac in an exasperated voice.

Richard looked at him encouragingly,

"What don't you know?" he asked.

"A hell of a lot," laughed Mac. "What I'm trying to decide now is whether I want to ask you if I can go and see Eddie. I don't know if we can patch things up - or even if I want to. When I think about what happened to you and how Eddie just let it happen it makes me sick, but I do know how scared he is of crossing the boss. He's been wanting out ever since we got together and er... and erm... and... and well... I'm kind of fond of him," he finished, with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Look you don't have to decide now. Get in touch when you're ready and, if you want to see him, I'll see what I can do. No promises though, he is under arrest you know," responded Richard.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes...What?"

"Eddie said he didn't do any of that," he gestured at Barrett's body. "Is that true? Did he really have no part at all in it?"

Richard paused for a moment, he didn't want to have to keep thinking about what he'd been through but this man needed answers.

"He did do something didn't he? Did he hit you? Use that machine? What? I know he did something - I can see it in your eyes," said Mac.

"He didn't do anything direct - and that's the honest truth. He wasn't even there a lot of the time. The only thing he _was_ involved in he more than made up for afterwards. Mac, you need to talk to _him_ , ask _him_ about it. Now, please, I need to get on with tracking down the real perpetrators," Richard said.

"OK, I really am sorry... about everything. You take care of yourself."

As Barrett watched Mac get in to the lift he leaned back against the wall. He thought about what the Scotsman had told him about Doyle's background. Unfortunately it didn't seem to have helped much, if at all. He found it hard to reconcile the conflicting images he now had of Frankie, one as a helpless child living in appalling circumstances and the other as the evil monster who'd put him through hell. He acknowledged that there was a part of himself that didn't want to think there was any excuse at all for what Doyle had done. Richard didn't believe that Frankie's story justified his actions anyway. There were plenty of kids who grew up in similar circumstances and they didn't all turn into psychopathic sadists. Most of them became normal compassionate human beings. Besides, Richard acknowledged, right now he really needed to hate Frankie for what he'd done. He decided to put Mac's story to the back of his mind and try and focus on the task in hand. He didn't hurt so much now, but boy was he tired. He rubbed his eyes then headed down the stairs to find Mrs. Hunter.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Is it the Russians you're after?

Outside Mrs. Hunter's door Richard paused for a moment, took a deep breath, knocked and waited... and waited. By the time the door opened he'd almost decided she wasn't in.

"Now, who's...oh, it's the young man from the lift, is it?" Mrs. Hunter looked him up and down. "You know, you look worse every time I see you. Still, if you must go around with certain young ladies you should expect that sort of thing I suppose."

She paused for a second.

"Mrs. Hunter..."

"You'll be wanting something?"

"Well..."

She was looking at him with a belligerent expression and Richard found himself at a loss as to how he should proceed, it took a great effort of will for him to stand his ground and ignore the instinct to turn tail and run back to his room. He realised belatedly that he really wasn't ready for an encounter with the redoubtable Mrs Hunter. Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face and, luckily for Richard, it had the effect of softening the lady's attitude towards him.

"Come in then, would you like some tea?"

"That would be..."

"It's not very good, they don't have the right type here, it's all fancy stuff."

"Oh, I..."

"Still, beggars can't be choosers."

She wandered into another room, leaving Richard wondering quite how long it would take him to complete a sentence. She was still talking to him through the door but he had to admit he wasn't paying full attention. He was finding it very difficult to concentrate and he was fervently wishing that he'd gone to interview the nurses first, even though he doubted that they'd have anything useful to tell him.

"...very nice man, obviously an old fashioned gent, yes?"

"Hmmm?" Richard looked up to see Mrs. Hunter standing at her table with two cups of tea.

"Your boss," she clarified.

"Oh yes, yes."

She placed the cups on the table, then turned to Richard with a piercing look. "Young man..." she began. Barrett steeled himself for a dressing down but, to his surprise, she finished the sentence with the words, "Why don't you sit down before you fall down, dear?"

Richard sat down gratefully. The events of the last couple of days had shaken him far more than he wanted to admit and only now was it dawning on him just how bad it had been. He wanted to pick up the teacup but was afraid his hand would shake so he sat with both hands in his lap.

"Mrs. Hunter," he began, "I need you to do something for me. I want you to describe the blonde you saw me with so that, between us, we can come up with an accurate drawing of her."

"You want _WHAT_?" she exploded, "A drawing of her? You really have been taken in by her haven't you? Have you no sense whatsoever? Drawing of her indeed! What are you going to do with it? Carry it in your wallet next to your heart? Harrumph, if you think for one moment that I'm going to help you, just so you can carry round an image of a creature like that, you must be out of your mind. To think that I'd actually started to feel sorry for you! I should have known better. A drawing! Good grief young man, I can hardly believe you're serious. I'm not going to sit here with you a moment longer listening to this delusional talk. I'll thank you to leave, right this very minute, or I'll call the manager. A drawing of that blonde hussy!" She continued to mutter under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief.

Richard was so stunned he almost got up and left the room, he was halfway to his feet before he pulled himself together.

"No, no," he protested, "you've got it all wrong."

 _"I've_ got it wrong?" she said indignantly. " _I'm_ not the one who wants to carry a picture of a blonde brazen hussy around with me. How dare you? It defies imagina..."

"I need it for the police," Richard cut in desperately.

"The police?"

"Yes. You were right all along Mrs. Hunter," he said, trying to placate her. "The young lady is in with a very bad crowd and we need to find out who she is and as much about her as we can."

"Oh, well that's different," said Mrs. Hunter, mollified at last. "I will certainly help you with your picture if that will help to stop her devious ways. I also have some information about the strumpet herself that might help you track her down," she finished.

"Oh?"

"Well, I decided to do a little detective work of my own. So I went back to Dorothy's and guess who was there?"

"Who's Dorothy?" Richard asked.

"My daughter, do keep up. Anyway, Donald was there so I asked him if he could help me out..."

"Donald?"

"Her son," Mrs. Hunter replied, looking at Richard rather sympathetically. "Are you sure you've not been hit on the head a few too many times?"

"Er, no. Sorry, I've just been a bit out of the loop."

"I gathered from your nice American friend that you'd disappeared with the blonde harlot I saw you with. He seemed very worried about you so I wondered if my grandson could help track you down. He was at school with the men your friend was after and so I thought Donald might know who she was."

"Who?"

"The blonde," Mrs. Hunter said, unable to entirely hide the exasperation in her voice. "Are you sure you should be up, you don't seem to be thinking clearly?"

Richard was beginning to think she might be right. His head was spinning and he was having to grip both hands together to stop them shaking. He was going to kill Craig for making him do this interview, especially when there were four nurses somewhere in the building who would undoubtedly make more sense and be a lot more fun to talk to.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Um," Barrett shifted in his seat. Not wanting to appear rude he reached out for the cup with both hands and took a sip. For the most part he managed to hold it steady. As he carefully replaced the cup in the saucer he looked up. Mrs. Hunter was looking at him very strangely. She reached out and took his right hand in hers, slowly she turned it over.

"I think you're bleeding dear."

He looked down at his wrist. Maybe the shower hadn't been such a good idea.

"Mrs. Hunter," he said as politely as he could. "I don't suppose you could tell me, very quickly, what it is you found out?"

"Yes, yes of course. I have been going on a bit, haven't I. Terrible habit, my daughter says that I..." she stopped abruptly. "Sorry, doing it again. All right, Donald knows that blonde, she's called Sonja Temnikova. She lives over on Barnaby Close in Balham... Is it the Russians you're after, sounds like it to me?"

Richard stared at her for a moment, hardly believing his luck that he finally had an address and that she'd managed to tell him in under five minutes.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the case but thank you. This is very important. Do you know anything else, anything at all, that might help me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. Do you want me to look at that?" she asked looking down at the blood on his bandaged wrist.

"That's all right, my friend's a doctor."

"Well," Mrs. Hunter said as she rose, "you'd better run along then and get yourself sorted out."

As Richard got up she helpfully took his arm. Unfortunately the woman had an iron like grip. The Nemesis man made a very odd sound and pried her hand off him.

"Can you not do that?" he asked in a rather strangled voice.

"Oh, have I...let me take a look."

"No really," Richard replied rather abruptly as he backed rapidly towards the door.

"I was a nurse during the war."

"It's fine," he continued as he reached back for the door handle and yanked it open. "I just need a little lie down."

"If you say so."

"And Mrs. Hunter, thank you. I think I might have been dead if you hadn't helped my friend find me."

For once she was speechless.

"Goodbye Mrs. Hunter," Richard said as he closed the door.

* * *

He stood for a moment wondering if he should go back to bed and then resolved to see the nurses instead. He was sure if he went back to his room he'd not be able to bring himself to leave again for a considerable time, he was so tired. Still, as he needed to pass on the address Mrs Hunter had given him to either Sharron or Craig, he headed in the direction of his room anyway. Luckily his resolve to interview the nurses wasn't put to the test because he encountered one of the Nemesis security men, who he knew by sight, in the corridor. He quickly dispatched him with the message and continued to where the nurses were being held.

He asked the man in charge to send the first nurse in and sat in the room that had been allocated for the interviews. He couldn't help feeling a little excited at the thought of being able to interview a pleasant young lady at last. He barely managed to hide his disappointment when a large, plain looking, middle-aged lady was shown into the room.

"Ah hello, and you are?" he asked.

"Nurse Martin. Oh my, young man you look as though you need some nursing care yourself but I can see that you are the type who will not be led. I won't waste my breath telling you to take it easy, I've had too much experience with men of your type. You won't stop until you fall down, I can see that. So," she continued, "ask me whatever you need to know and I shall endeavour to answer as quickly and succinctly as I can. That way you'll get that rest you need as quickly as possible."

She was as good as her word and Richard soon concluded the interview, certain she had told him everything she knew. Which unfortunately didn't help in the least.

The next nurse came in, also a middle-aged lady, she stalked into the room and stood looking down at him with a belligerent look on her face.

"Do please sit down," Richard said.

"I don't intend to be here long enough to make it worth my while," she replied, shortly, "I've been kept waiting for far too long already so kindly ask me what you want to know and let me go home. This is all very inconvenient.

"I'm sorry that you've been inconvenienced but I must remind you that a man was killed today, in your hospital."

"It isn't _my_ hospital. I just happen to work there," she replied, in the manner of one who has just scored a point. "I can assure you I saw nothing untoward and I really have no idea why I have to keep stating that fact over and over again. Maybe I should just write it down on a piece of paper and wave it in people's faces every time I'm asked. I'm awfully tired of having to repeat it."

Richard made a half-hearted attempt to ask her the questions on his mental list but, if she knew anything at all, she clearly wasn't going to share it with him. With a sigh he asked her to wait in the other room for a little longer.

"Oh for goodness sake," she exploded, "I have a home to go to and I am absolutely fed up with all this hanging about. Maybe you'd prefer it if I made something up? Maybe I could go then?"

"I'm really sorry," said Richard. "I will release you as soon as I possibly can."

To his great relief the security guard ushered her, still protesting loudly, from the room.

He sent for the next nurse. Having resigned himself to interviewing a string of middle-aged ladies, he was pleasantly surprised to be confronted by a young, extremely pretty nurse. Admittedly she was brunette not blonde but, under the circumstances, that was probably just as well.

"Take a seat," he said.

Unfortunately this nurse had a lot less experience with men of Barrett's type than her predecessors and she instantly started fussing about him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I refuse to answer any questions until you at least let me see to your wrists. You are bleeding and I can't sit here and ignore that. I'm not a nurse for nothing you know."

Richard made a few attempts to ask her the questions he needed answers to but she was having none of it and, in the end, he asked her to wait in the other room. Sharron or Craig would have to interview her instead, although he suspected she knew nothing that would help anyway.

Without much hope he sent for the remaining nurse.

* * *

"Well, that was another dead end," Craig said as he and Sharron walked out of the fifth building they'd checked on the list. "How the heck have they cleared every one of them out? They shouldn't be this organised."

"Maybe they'd abandoned them before today?"

"All of them?"

Sharron shrugged and headed towards the car. As Stirling followed her a car pulled up. A man got out and hurried towards them. Craig recognised him as Philip Horsberg, one of the agents who had been at the warehouse.

"Stirling, my boss gave me this. Apparently Barrett got a lead that needs following up and I was asked to pass it on to you."

He handed over an envelope. The American tore it open and quickly read it.

"How's your end of the operation going Philip?" Craig asked, as he handed the note to Sharron.

"No sign of Barrett's car. I suppose it's been dumped. No sign of the boss or the girl either, we have the police on to that, but it looks like they've gone to ground." Horsberg paused, noting the look on the other man's face.

"So no progress at all then?" Stirling asked testily.

"Er, no," he replied.

"Come on Craig," Sharron said getting into the car.

Stirling sighed and opened the driver's door.

"Thanks anyway," Craig paused. "Actually could you do me a favour? I need you to ask Barrett to call Tremayne. He'll know if they've made headway back in Geneva?"

"Sure," Horsberg replied as Stirling shut the door and drove off.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up a street away from Sonja's house. As they approached Barnaby Close, Craig noticed someone coming towards him.

"Hey Stirling," the man said.

"You were at the hospital weren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm Dave Taylor. Barrett gave me the message about this place. I thought you could use some back up."

"Er... right," Craig replied. He really hoped this didn't complicate matters. He didn't want to have to try and explain anything 'unexplainable' to the young man. "All right, let's go. We haven't got the house number so we'll have to do them one at a time."

* * *

Richard looked up without much hope as the last nurse was shown in.

His heart lifted as he saw that she was young, very pretty and had strawberry blonde hair.

"Do sit down," he said, with a trace of enthusiasm in his voice.

"Would you like a drink, sir?" asked the security man.

"Good idea," replied Richard, "I'll have a pint of bitter please." Turning to the nurse he said, "What will you have?"

"A dry martini please," she responded with a smile.

The man went to fetch their drinks from the bar and Richard gazed a little foolishly at the young woman in front of him, then he pulled himself together.

"Your name is?"

"I'm Nurse Evans but please call me Diane," she replied, smiling. "I say would you mind awfully letting me re-bandage those wrists of yours, only you are bleeding through a bit and I can easily answer your questions at the same time."

She rummaged in her capacious handbag and brought out some fresh bandages.

"Okay. That's very thoughtful of you," said Richard, holding his hands out to her.

She unwrapped the bandages slowly and Richard rested his hands in her lap and was enjoying the feel of her cool fingers on his lower arms when he suddenly noticed the expression on her face. She looked almost excited and it made him feel very uncomfortable.

"That does look nasty," she said as she examined his wrists. "Does it hurt _very_ much?" she asked.

"It's not too bad," Richard replied, trying to push down the feeling of panic that was rising in his chest.

"I understand that you were tortured,' the nurse remarked conversationally as she bandaged his wrists very gently. Her calm manner was completely at odds with the almost hungry look in her eyes and Richard began to wish he'd let Craig do the interviews after all.

"Someone told me they used some sort of electrical device on you," she went on, in the same relaxed tone. She laughed, a very pretty tinkling sound that belied her eager expression. "Maybe I should take a look, in a purely professional capacity of course. I expect you have a few electrical burns don't you?"

Richard reflected that a small number of nurses probably went into the profession because of an unhealthy fascination with pain and suffering. He suspected that he might be lumbered with one of that kind right now.

"I've already been checked out thank you," he said, in the briskest tone he could manage. "Now I wonder if I can ask you a few questions about what happened back at the hospital."

"Okay, ask away, we can always save the other stuff for later can't we?" she said calmly, while deftly finishing off his wrist bandage.

"Er, well maybe," Richard replied, warily. "Anyway, I'd like to know when you last saw Johnson alive."

"Yes I thought you'd ask that. It was about half past eight and I was wondering if he was awake, he might have needed some pain medication, you see, but he was asleep. So I just checked his chart. He was definitely breathing though. Actually, it must have been just before half past because, when I came out, the agent had got back and he asked..."

"What do you mean, got back? He wasn't there when you went in?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You need to be sure."

"Yes, I'm sure," she said after a moment's thought.

"Was that the only time you went into Johnson's room?"

"Yes."

"All right, you can leave now, thank you," Richard said as he got to his feet.

"Are you sure you don't..."

"Yes, I'm sure," Richard cut in hastily as he held the door open.

"You know where to find me if you need to talk," she said as she left looking a little disgruntled.

"What's up with you?" asked the agent on the door.

"Hmmm, oh nothing, she was just a bit..." Richard's voice trailed off. "Never mind. Look I need you to get the list of agents who were on Johnson's door, and you can let the nurses go."

As he waited he tried hard not to think about the patients at the hospital who had to put up with Nurse Evans on a daily basis.

"Barrett?"

He looked up and took the list from the agent. There were three names on the list but only one was of interest to Richard, Dave Taylor the man who'd been on duty from 8.00 til 10.00.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Leaving Johnson unguarded like that, looks like that's when they got to him."

* * *

Without much hope Craig hammered on yet another door. He saw the curtains twitch and knew that he was being watched. He banged again and then again. He was feeling incredibly frustrated and he decided that he would continue to knock until either someone answered or the door fell down. The watcher seemed to realise he was not going to give up and the door was at last opened.

"What do you want? Because whatever you are selling I am not interested," said the statuesque, haughty looking brunette who had finally answered his knock.

Stirling turned on his considerable charm,

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, I'm actually looking for this young lady." He held up the drawing Richard had sent over. "Her name is Sonja, do you know her?"

"I've seen her around but we keep ourselves pretty much to ourselves around here. I think she lives across the street, at least 10 or 15 houses along."

"OK, thank you for your time," Craig said, as the woman closed the door very firmly.

He sighed, crossed the road and walked down a few houses to where Sharron was about to go up the path of yet another property.

"I don't know why but I feel very uneasy. Something isn't right and I just can't put my finger on what it is," he told her.

"I've got that same feeling," she responded. "But, as we have no idea of the cause, all we can do is keep going and stay on our guard."

With that she turned and marched up the path. She stood for a moment to compose herself before knocking on the door. She didn't have to wait long before a man answered.

"Look, I was on the overnight flight..." he said as his face came into view. He looked decidedly grumpy. However, after a rather obvious double take, his expression changed. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

"That's all right," Sharron replied. "I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just that I really need to find Sonja Temnikova."

"Don't worry about it, I never mind being woken up by a pretty young girl." The man winked at her.

Sharron sighed inwardly. "Do you know her, sir?"

"What was the name again Sweetpea?"

She took a deep breath. "Temnikova, Sonja..."

"Sharron."

She looked to her left, Craig was a few doors down. He was pointing at the next house along. _'Oh thank the Lord,'_ Sharron thought.

"Thank you for your time sir, I think my colleague may have found her."

"Not at all," the man said in a tone he obviously thought was alluring. "Anytime you fancy coming round and..." his voice tailed away as he realised he was talking to her back.

"This is definitely the place, but I don't think there's anyone home," said Craig, as Sharron approached.

He saw Agent Taylor walking towards them and lowered his voice,

"I've listened and I'm certain the place is empty. We're gonna have to break in. Can you distract Taylor while I deal with the lock?"

"Of course," smiled Sharron standing in front of Craig to mask what he was doing as she turned to speak to the other agent.

Stirling shrugged off the feeling of danger that suddenly swept over him and concentrated on breaking the lock.

"Well would you look at that," he exclaimed, "the door was open all along."

He strode through the door with the other two following in his wake.

They spread out, checking each room, but there was no sign of Sonja. After a few minutes the three of them met up in the kitchen. Sharron looked down at the half full cup on the table, then put her hand against the kettle, which stood next to her.

"It's warm. She's just left."

"Out back," Craig said, heading out of the door and through the garden. "Taylor, check the shed," he added as he opened the gate that led onto a private road lined with garages. It ran in both directions. He ran one way, Sharron the other. A short while later they both returned, both empty-handed.

"She's not in the shed," Taylor said as he joined them.

"There's a surprise," muttered Stirling under his breath.

"She must have seen you across the street," Sharron said to Craig.

"Dammit!"

"Well, it can't be helped," she added. "We should search this place properly."

"Right," said Taylor, enthusiastically.

"Hang on," Stirling cut in. "What was the house number?"

"45."

In front of them was a garage. A sign reading '45' hung on the frame. Craig nodded to Sharron who moved to distract Taylor once more.

"So how did you find this place?" she asked as she walked back towards the back garden, drawing him with her.

"Barrett gave me the address, so a few of us tried to track you down. When I couldn't find you I thought maybe you were already here and might need some back up."

She heard the garage door swing open.

"She should really learn to lock up," Craig said as he lifted it up. Inside was what he had hoped he would find, a white Alpha Romeo.

"Taylor, this is Barrett's car will you drive it to the police station near the hotel? See if they can get any prints off it. Sharron can take your car, right?"

"Sure, it's rented."

Craig looked in the back, there was broken glass on the seat.

"There's a bullet hole in the bumper," Sharron said with a grimace.

"Taylor, don't tell Barrett we've found his car, he doesn't know he's lost it yet."

"Right," the agent replied as he found the keys under the driver's seat.

"Oh and Taylor," said Craig, "Get a team up here fast. If Sonja only just left there could be some information here we could use."

"That's right," the other man said. "I'd better stick around. I'll call for back up from the young lady's phone and then help you look around. I can drive the car to the police station when the rest of the men arrive."

"OK, you make that call then start in the bedroom, Sharron and I will look downstairs," Stirling said, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Once inside the house Taylor headed straight up the stairs.

"Where are you going, I need you to make that call first," said Craig.

"There's an extension in the bedroom. I can make it from there," replied the agent.

"How do you know that?" asked the American.

Taylor looked momentarily disconcerted but replied easily enough, "I saw it when we were searching the place before."

As soon as the agent was out of sight Craig took Sharron by the arm and led her into the kitchen.

"I don't know about you but that feeling of uneasiness I had before has been getting worse and worse. There's something not right about the set up and I just can't put my finger on what it is," he said.

"I feel just the same," replied Sharron. "I still can't pinpoint why though either, and we mustn't let it interfere with what we need to do. Let's just get the search over with shall we?"

"Okay, I'll take the front room, you look around in here."

Craig walked into the living room and quickly scanned the tabletops, all of which were clear. He headed for the desk by the window and started opening drawers. They were filled with old bills, Christmas cards and other useless items. What he was looking for was an address book but, after searching all the drawers, he came up empty. On a hunch he pulled the desk away from the wall. Looking down the back of it he didn't find what he'd been looking for, but he did find something else that might be almost as useful. As he reached behind the desk Sharron came into the room.

"Did you find something?" she asked.

"Sure did," Craig replied as he straightened up, a passport in his hand. "You?"

"Nothing."

Stirling started flipping through the pages while Sharron looked over his shoulder.

"I guess she took off in such a hurry that she forgot to check she had it with her," Craig said as he examined each page.

"Now that's interesting," Sharron said, pointing to one of the stamps. "The day before you and Richard got picked up she went to Paris."

"I bet that wasn't for a holiday."

"Well, it was a short one if it was," she replied.

"One thing I've been puzzling over is how she knew what Richard looked like, she was definitely giving _him_ the eye that night, not me. Yet the boss didn't know who was who and neither did Johnson."

"You think she went to Paris to meet a contact and he showed her Richard's picture?"

"I'm willing to bet on it. Now I say we finish up here and then we'd better go and investigate the last couple of places on that list Tremayne gave us. I doubt we'll find anything but we need to check all the same."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Two old bats, a wet blanket and a psychopath.

The moment Richard returned to his room he rang reception and ordered the most expensive meal he could find on the menu. Under the circumstances he didn't think Tremayne would object. Immediately that was done he headed for the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror he took off his tie, then his shirt and trousers. Most of the burns were healing rapidly, he was relieved to see, although they still looked red and angry. Then he checked his wrists which looked a lot better. Much of the bruising on his legs had faded, although his right shin still looked a mess. He looked up into the mirror. His face was almost back to normal, which was quite a relief. He put his hands on to the sink and closed his eyes. Not as bad as it could have been, he supposed, but he was starting to feel rather sick and he was breathing very fast. He struggled to get himself under control, fighting back thoughts he'd rather not deal with.

"Hello Sunshine."

Richard spun round, his fists up, eyes wide.

There was no-one there.

It was a moment before he could move. Slowly he let out the breath he'd been holding, and fought against the urge to check his bedroom. He knew Frankie wasn't there, the man was locked up somewhere, but that just meant he was hearing voices, which was hardly a comfort. His eyes still glued to the doorway Richard slowly pulled on his trousers and then, despite his best efforts to dismiss his fears, he walked cautiously to the door, his heart rate rising alarmingly. He looked into the room. Nobody was there. He was angry with himself, what the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like he had as a child when he knew there were no monsters in his room but still had to check before he could go to sleep.

Gritting his teeth Richard walked purposefully through his room and into Craig's. He yanked the wardrobe doors open, ignoring the lurch in his stomach as he did so, and searched for a clean shirt. Finding one, he pulled it on and headed back into the main room to wait for his meal to arrive.

It crossed Richard's mind that it seemed odd that he'd have flashbacks about Doyle rather than the Boss given that that latter was far more of a specialist in interrogation techniques than Frankie. He reasoned that it was probably because the Boss's treatment of him had been purely professional. He'd wanted information that he thought the Nemesis man could give him and had gone about trying to get it in a businesslike way. Richard could afford him a little grudging respect for that. With Frankie things had got personal. Doyle hadn't really been that interested in making him talk he'd just wanted to work off his anger on him and play with him just like a cat plays with a helpless mouse. Richard had seen the inherent sadism in the man and recognised that Frankie loved violence for its own sake. Therefore it made sense that Doyle had got under his skin in a way that the Boss hadn't.

He shook his head a little to clear it and wondered if he should take a look through the photos again while he waited, and maybe try to get all the facts and suspicions he'd accumulated clear in his mind, but he was afraid he'd get too engrossed and have to break off when the food arrived.

The phone rang and a voice on the other end informed him that they were terribly sorry but things were very busy in the kitchen at the moment and would he prefer to wait twenty minutes for the meal he'd ordered or have a sandwich instead. Richard decided to wait. He replaced the receiver and sat on his bed, realising just how tired he was. He decided that the best use he could make of the time was to try and grab a little sleep.

He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Instantly a picture of Frankie's grinning face came into his head. Richard leapt up from the bed and started to pace around the room. He'd heard of soldiers who experienced this sort of thing after they'd been through the war. He remembered hearing that, every time they closed their eyes, they had flashbacks and that many were afraid to sleep because of the terrible nightmares they had. He was aware that some of them had been so filled with despair that they'd taken their own lives and others had been driven mad. He was starting to panic now, what if it happened to him? What if every time he closed his eyes he saw Doyle? What if his dreams were filled with the man? How would he bear it? He tried to force his mind onto a more pleasant memory. That of Frankie screaming after Richard had hurled the cricket ball at him. Recalling the tiny amount of revenge he'd been able to exact did make him feel a little better.

He lay down again, he wasn't going to let Doyle do this to him. Concentrating hard on picturing his tormentor crying out and writhing on the floor, Richard closed his eyes once more. It was working and he started to believe that he would be able to sleep. The mental image changed abruptly and, instead of Frankie's yells, he heard him laughing.

"I've broken you," he said.

Barrett jerked awake. He was in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, staring around the room, shaking uncontrollably. Exhausted he collapsed back on to the bed and screwed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms into them.

Seconds later he jumped as he heard a knock at the door. Swearing under his breath, he swung his legs off the bed and got up. He felt a little unsteady but he braced himself and went to the door where he found a young man holding a tray.

"Your steak sir."

"Oh, yes. Thank you, just put it on the table."

Barrett went to his bedside table and found some money for a tip. As he handed the cash over he was grateful the man didn't comment on the way his hand shook.

"Thank you," he said as the other man left.

Richard stared at the steak. Suddenly he wasn't hungry. The very idea of eating made him feel sick. Instead he picked up the phone and dialled.

"Hello?"

"Mac? It's Richard Barrett. I need to ask you a couple of questions."

"Go ahead."

"When you drove me back to the hotel was it just Harrison who stayed with you?"

"Yes it was," Mac replied.

"And how long were you at the hotel before Miss Macready arrived?"

'Twenty minutes… half an hour maybe."

"Did Harrison call any one?" Richard asked.

"No."

"Right. Did you talk much with him?"

"Not really, just about what to order from room service. I'm not going to have to pay for the food am I? It's just since he wouldn't let me leave I thought..."

"He didn't want you to leave?"

"No, he said..."

"That's great."

"Er, all right." Mac paused. "Have you spoken to Eddie?"

"Sorry, no. I'll probably have to at some point. Why? Have you decided that you want to see him?"

"If that's OK."

"It's not up to me, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Goodbye then."

Richard put down the phone and sat down. Maybe if he tried the food he'd be able to eat it. He cut into the steak and felt slightly sick at the sight of the pinkish meat and the juice running from it. He pushed the plate to one side angrily. He had to find something to do to take his mind off what he'd been through in that cellar.

The most important thing now was to work out the identity of the mole within Nemesis. Obviously he, Craig and Sharron were in the clear. The only other person he was sure of was Harrison. The man had missed too many opportunities to have Richard recaptured for him to be anything but on the level. Barrett picked up the phone, rang the temporary number Tremayne had given him for communicating with him direct and left a message for Tremayne to call as soon as he landed in Geneva. He cradled the phone and dialled the direct line to the Nemesis temporary base in London, in use for the duration of this case. He decided not to risk saying too much over the phone in case they too had been infiltrated instead he asked that Harrison be sent to see him as soon as possible.

While he waited for the call from Geneva and Harrison's arrival he took out the photos he'd gathered of all the protagonists in this mission and started to make notes of all the known information about each one. He shuddered slightly as he got to the picture of the boss but forced himself to continue.

He'd amost finished writing all the facts that he knew about the man when Harrison arrived. Richard asked him to go to the police station and check with the local constabulary about any prior convictions the four men in custody had and, at the same time, pick up their statements. Without giving an explanation he warned the man not to discuss what he was doing with his fellow agents.

"You're to report back directly to Stirling, Miss Macready or me – no-one else, Understood?

The man looked a little puzzled but agreed readily enough and set off without asking any difficult questions.

Richard returned to the task of writing down everything he could remember about the boss. He had just finished when the call from Geneva came through. Richard asked Tremayne to supply a list of names of all staff that were in London just before he and Craig had been ambushed the first time and of everyone who was on leave at that time, along with information about where they'd gone if they'd left Geneva. He also requested full surveillance reports on the cryptographers that worked for Nemesis and their associates. Tremayne promised to get back to him as soon as he could with detailed information. Fortuitously he'd dealt with the agents' pay for that month just before he'd left for London so was able to supply a list of agents that had been on holiday and even knew where some of them had spent their leave.

As soon as he'd put the phone down Barrett checked the notes he'd made while speaking to Tremayne. He felt momentarily excited when he saw that one of the agents who'd been on leave had been Taylor. His hopes were dashed when he read the information that the man hadn't been in London when he and Craig had been abducted, he'd been in Paris. That indicated that it was likely to have been just carelessness at the hospital that had led the man to leave his post, and not something more sinister. He could make nothing of any of the other names on the list so decided to return to the task that he'd started earlier.

Richard picked up the remainder of the photos and gradually worked through them all. He soon became so absorbed in the task that seeing Frankie's face leering up at him from the last photo caused him much less discomfort than he'd feared.

He was now extremely tired and, as there was no more he could do until the information he needed arrived, he lay down on his bed to sleep. He'd just started to doze off when a call came through from Harrison.

"Barrett, all the priors on the four relate to bank jobs and stuff like that, nothing like this case at all. The only information about any other type of job is something Carter mentioned - he's remembered the name of one of the boss' victims and it's a high-ranking civil servant. I'm on my way back now but I thought I should ring the information through straight away."

"Thanks Harrison, you did the right thing."

Richard lay down to sleep again, experiencing a grateful thought that the work he'd just done seemed to have purged Doyle's image from his mind - at least for the time being.

* * *

A little while later Craig and Sharron came into the room. As Stirling had predicted, they'd found nothing at any of the places they'd just checked out. They would have preferred to leave their colleague sleeping but, when they tried to decipher his handwritten notes on the pictures they found that it wasn't possible, so they decided to wake him as gently as they could.

Stirling poked his head around the bedroom door. Barrett was lying on his back, an arm across his eyes blocking the light from the window.

"Richard," he said quietly as he approached.

There was no sign that the other man had heard so the American sat on the bed and shook his friend's arm gently. The sleeping man mumbled something unintelligible. Stirling tried again, harder this time. After a few seconds Barrett shifted slightly and then suddenly he was awake, his arm flailing.

"It's me," Craig said quickly and it only took a moment for Richard to get his bearings.

"Oh," he began, "sorry."

Sharron appeared at Craig's shoulder.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Fine," Richard replied a little too quickly. "Really," he added with emphasis.

"I doubt that", she said, "take your shirt off."

Richard looked at her for a moment.

"She's awfully keen to get my clothes off," he said, raising his eyebrows and exchanging a knowing look with Craig.

"Oh, I think he's all right Sharron, he's making stupid jokes again. All the same Richard, I think you should let her take a look just to be sure everything's healing properly." Stirling said, getting to his feet.

Richard sighed dramatically but, realising that he was outnumbered, he started to take off the shirt.

"So, how did it go with Mrs. Hunter?" Sharron asked, as she sat down.

"Oh yeah, thanks for that, a real treat. And the nurses... two old bats, a wet blanket and a psychopath."

"Richard!" Sharron sounded a little scandalised. "The one I interviewed was really nice."

"Oh good," Barrett replied, still sounding a bit put out. "Anyway, the frightening one had something interesting to say. Apparently she went to check on Johnson and there was nobody on the door, anybody could have walked in. And, by the way, it was Herapin that Johnson was given that caused him to bleed to death, they told me when I rang the hospital."

"That's readily available," Sharron said, as she took a look at Richard's arms. "And it can take a variable amount of time to have an effect, depending on the dose and the patient."

"And anybody could have walked in so that doesn't get us much further then. How about you? You find anything? Ow!" Barrett looked down at his arm. "Why do doctors always make things worse?" he asked.

"Stop moaning Richard," Craig said, trying to make light of it as much for his own benefit as his friend's. He could feel the anger building and was regretting not rearranging Frankie's face when he'd had the chance. The small, round mark he could see on his friend's chest was obviously from a cigarette and, for some reason, the thought of his friend being used as an ashtray upset him the most. He forced his mind back on to the mission.

"Sonja had gone by the time we got to the house. Only just though, we left Taylor checking out the place..."

"Taylor? That was Taylor?" Richard asked.

"Yes, why?"

"He was the one who was supposed to be guarding Johnson's door."

"And he was in Sonja's street before we were," Sharron cut in.

"He could have warned her," added Craig, "and killed Johnson, he might have been disposing of the evidence when that nurse turned up."

"I thought about him too, but it can't be. He wasn't in London before we got picked up and so he couldn't have met with Sonja."

"You don't happen to know where he was?" Stirling asked slowly.

"Yes, on leave, in Paris."

Craig's face broke into a broad smile as he took Sonja's passport out of his pocket. He opened it and showed Richard the stamp from Aeroport de Paris Nord.

His colleague smiled back. "Bingo."

"Except that we don't just want Taylor, we also need his boss," said Craig.

"I may have an idea. We could kill two birds with one stone," Richard said.

"Am I going to like this plan?" asked Craig.

"Probably not. Not sure I do either and, if you can come up with a better one, I'm all ears, but for now it's all I've got."


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Hang on tight!

At quarter past ten the next morning Barrett walked into the hotel room that the agents were using as a common room. He looked around. It was empty apart from one man.

"Where is everyone?" Richard asked.

"Staking out a fresh lead."

"Oh." Barrett paused. "I... er...need someone to drive me over to Clapham. I don't fancy running into trouble without back up at the moment."

"Not surprised, mate," the man said.

"Would _you_ mind taking me?"

"Not at all. I'll have to clear it with my boss but I'm sure it'll be okay. Just give me a few minutes and then we'll go."

"I need to get my jacket so I'll meet you in the foyer," Richard said as he turned to leave. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Dave, Dave Taylor."

"Right, see you in ten minutes."

* * *

Richard went back up to his room to let his two friends know that Taylor appeared to have fallen into their trap. Craig and Sharron had ordered food in his absence and it had just arrived.

"He's swallowed the bait then, that's great," said Stirling, his mouth full of toast.

"Yes, I'm to meet him in the foyer in ten minutes," said Barrett.

"OK we'll be ready," said Sharron.

"Do you want some toast before you go, you haven't eaten anything this morning have you?" Craig asked.

Richard glanced down and noticed that a little of the jam had spilled onto the tablecloth. The resemblance to drops of blood brought back memories he didn't want to deal with right now.

"Er no that's all right, I'm not very hungry," he said.

His treacherous stomach gave a rumble that belied his words but neither of his colleagues commented, sensing that it wasn't lack of hunger that had caused their friend to refuse.

"I'd better get down to the foyer then, see you later," he said.

* * *

Craig and Sharron exchanged a concerned glance as Richard left the room.

"I wish we could have put the plan into operation last night," Sharron said.

"Me too, but you know that we had no choice but to wait until Dave Taylor was back on duty. It had to look as if it was pure chance that he was the one who was asked for a lift."

"'Yes, of course, but the wait hasn't done Richard any good. I still can't believe Taylor had gone off duty just five minutes before we were ready to go last night."

"Me neither, such bad timing. And then, this morning, he gets sent straight out. I thought Richard was going to explode. Still it could have been worse, the man could have been out of contact all day," Craig said.

"That's true but, after the enforced overnight wait, the extra two hour hold-up this morning was very hard on Richard's nerves…and ours too," Sharron added.

"Richard's tough, he'll be fine. Besides, he and I had hardly had any sleep since we were in that bar the night Sonja picked him up and, as you pointed out last night, we needed the rest anyway. You'd missed out on a fair bit of sleep yourself too, " Craig said. "Even super-humans get tired you know," he finished, trying to raise a smile from his companion. The attempt failed, Sharron was too concerned to be amused.

"Yes, I know. But none of us slept very well last night did we? Richard was especially restless, I'm really worried about him. Remind me," Sharron continued, "Why are we doing this?"

"Because we couldn't think of anything better."

"Oh yes, that's a good reason! What if this goes wrong?"

"I'm not even thinking about the possibility," her colleague said as he polished off the last of the toast. "Come on, let's go."

Sharron sighed quietly and followed him out of the room and down the back stairs.

Outside they found Harrison sitting in his car near the hotel garage.

"We're on," Craig told him. "Keep behind us and, whatever happens, don't let Taylor out of your sight."

"Right," replied Harrison looking a little tense.

The two agents walked over to Stirling's car and got in. A couple of minutes later another car pulled out of the garage. Taylor was driving, Barrett was in the passenger seat. Neither Craig nor Sharron mentioned it but it was hard not to pick up on the emotions coming from their friend. All the time they'd sat in the hotel planning this out he'd tried to pretend it didn't bother him. They hadn't believed him then, and they certainly didn't now, but there was no backing out of this.

Craig gave the blue Rover time to turn and head down the road and then pulled out. Looking in the rear view mirror he saw Harrison do the same.

* * *

As the journey wore on Barrett began to relax a little. Taylor appeared to be doing exactly as he'd been asked and Richard was beginning to wonder if they'd made a mistake and the man was on the level. That would mean they'd have to start again, collating all the evidence to try and see who else might have acted suspiciously. He saw that the traffic lights up ahead were just about to change from green and watched as the man seated beside him slowed down in preparation to stop. Just as they were almost on top of the lights Taylor shouted,

"Hang on tight!"

He put his foot down hard on the accelerator and swung the car into a side road on the left. A cacophony of horns sounded in protest but Taylor carried on down the road, taking another sharp left turn at the end and then proceeded to drive down a myriad of side roads.

"What the hell are you playing at?" yelled Barrett.

"Sorry, I'm sure we were being followed. I think we've lost them but I just need to make certain. Wouldn't do for you to get kidnapped again now would it?" Taylor explained as he continued to drive.

"Right," Richard replied hoarsely. "I wondered if they might have had the hotel watched."

"Well don't you worry, I'm very good at losing people," the other man said as he stopped at another light. "I'll take a round about way to Clapham in case they know where we're heading."

"Great," said Barrett, trying to sound relieved.

As they sat at the lights Richard glanced around and found what he was looking for. He read the street name and, as they pulled away, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard, filling his mind with a mental image of the sign he'd seen.

"Hey are you OK?"

Barrett opened his eyes again. "Yes, I'm fine. You're sure we were being followed?"

"Pretty sure," Taylor replied. "I'll cut through here, it'll get us back to the South Circular."

As they turned into a side street Richard caught the name and started to concentrate on it. It was possible that Taylor wasn't working for the gang and had genuinely thought that Barrett was in danger, but Richard didn't think he was that lucky. He was beginning to regret agreeing with Craig when it came to not bothering to use electronic locators, he wouldn't be in quite so much trouble if he had a tracker in the car. As they made their way down the narrow street Richard found himself suddenly becoming very tense, but he wasn't sure if it was because he sensed danger or if he was merely picking up Craig and Sharron's emotions. He had his answer moments later when a car swung across their path. Taylor slammed the brakes on. Before Barrett could get the door open he felt something ram into his ribs. He looked down to confirm that it was a gun.

"They must be paying you a lot of money Taylor," he said quietly as he watched three men approach. Taylor didn't reply.

Moments later Richard was dragged out of the car and thrown face first over the bonnet. He wanted to fight back but the gun was still pointing at him. Then his arms were yanked behind his back. Two men handcuffed him and he repeated the name of the street over and over in his mind as they spun him round and began dragging him towards the other car.

He was just weighing up whether it was worth trying to make a break for it when the two men tightened their grip as the other opened the boot. There was little Barrett could do to help himself. They shoved him in head first, handcuffed his ankles together, then swung his legs into the boot.

He tried to concentrate on the street name but he couldn't think properly. Over the rushing sound in his ears he could hear the men talking.

"I think I was followed, I'm coming with you." That was Taylor's voice.

"The boss won't like that."

"I don't give a damn, I think they're on to me and I'm not sticking around to find out if I'm right."

"Fine, get in."

Richard looked up at two of the men. He saw one of them draw back his fist a moment before it slammed into his jaw and everything went black.

One of the men blindfolded Barrett deftly then slammed the boot shut.

* * *

It wasn't long before Richard began to recover consciousness, it took him a few moments to register what had happened to him.

 _'Hancuffed, feet shackled AND blindfolded,_ ' he thought _'they certainly don't intend to take any chances'._

He wondered where the men were taking him and where he was now. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious so he couldn't be sure that they were even still in London. He could tell from the way he was bouncing about that the surfaces they were travelling over weren't very smooth so he surmised that they were off the main roads. He brought his hands as close together as he could and took a deep breath, psyching himself up to try to break the chain at his wrists. He paused for a second, because the car seemed to be jerking about rather more than before, then he felt it give a considerable lurch, his head banged hard against the floor of the boot and he lost consciousness for the second time that day.

* * *

When Richard woke up again it didn't take him long to get his bearings. The good news was that the car was still moving so they hadn't yet reached their destination and, he was certain, the inevitable meeting with their boss. The bad news was that, if Craig and Sharron had lost him, they wouldn't be finding him any time soon. He took a moment to calm his mind, searching for any sign that his friends were near. He strained to detect a stray thought from one of them. When that proved fruitless he listened for the sound of another car following. As he did so he felt the car that he was in slow down and come to a halt. He held his breath, listening for the sound of the doors opening or footsteps. It took him a moment to notice that it was unnaturally quiet. There were no other cars, no sounds of people. He realised that they definitely weren't in London any more and his heart sank.

He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Quite a while if the arm he was lying on was anything to go by, it was almost completely numb. His wrists were hurting him but, before he'd left, Sharron had insisted on applying extra bandages, 'just in case', and he was glad she had. It could have been a lot worse.

He felt the car start to move forward again and he returned to the issue of trying to get out of the situation he found himself in. Again he pulled his hands together, gritted his teeth and pulled them apart as hard as he could. Just as he did so the car hit another bump in the road, throwing him off a little. The result was that the handcuffs were still intact.

He had to get out of these restraints or he was as good as dead. Only one hand was working fully so he concentrated on getting a good grip with it. When he was sure he was ready he pulled his hands apart as sharply as he could.. Nothing happened, with his arm still partially numb he couldn't get enough power to break it.

It was at this point that he realised the car had stopped. He heard the car doors opening and the men's voices getting louder.

Even with his eyes blindfolded Richard noticed the change in light when the boot opened.

Richard was shaking with a combination of frustration at how close he had been to freeing his hands, reaction to the events of the past few days and, he admitted to himself, a tinge of fear of what might happen next. He didn't have to wait long to find out. He felt hands grab his feet, pull them out of the boot and then the rest of him was levered upright. As the men dragged him from the car he tried to listen for any clues as to where he was but could hear nothing but birdsong. He felt his feet hit a step and presumed he was being taken inside a building. A moment later he heard a door open and the sounds changed as he was hauled inside. Eventually his captors stood him upright and let go. As he fought to keep his balance he heard a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?" said Sonja.

"They're on to me," replied Taylor. "Where's your boss?"

"Next door."

Richard heard the door shut and the sound of high heels on concrete. It was very quiet in the room and the Nemesis man wondered if he'd actually been left alone while the boss was informed he'd been recaptured. He tried to listen for any sounds that would indicate the presence of someone else. If he were alone he might have a chance to break the chain on the cuffs, the numbness in his arm had passed off now. At the very least he'd be able kneel down and use the floor to slide the blindfold off his eyes. Unfortunately the only things he could hear really clearly were his own breath, coming fast and short, his heartbeat pounding in his chest, and a drumming noise in his ears - all sounds caused by the fear he was feeling about what the boss was going to do to him. Was he alone or not? Still did it really matter that much, what had he got to lose anyway? He might as well try to get the blindfold off. He started to drop to his knees.

As his knees hit the concrete he thought he heard something.

"Where do you think you're going?" said a voice. Richard recognised it as belonging to one of the men from the car. He heard the scrape of a chair leg and then footsteps. He tried to get up.

"No, no. You stay down there."

He felt the chains round his ankles tighten and presumed the man had put his foot on them. He tensed, expecting a blow at any moment, but it didn't come. As he struggled to deal with the adrenalin rushing through him he once again reached out with his mind to Craig and Sharron but it was hard to stay focused and his own emotions drowned out everything else. As he tried once more he heard the door open and the sound of high heels - Sonja. He didn't think that anybody else was with her.

"Are you tormenting Mr. Barrett?" Sonja asked the man.

"I haven't touched him," he replied.

"Get up."

Richard supposed she was talking to him and felt the chain slacken. He rocked back on to his feet and straightened up.

"You've healed well."

As she spoke she stroked the side of his face gently. He pulled his head away. "I wonder what the rest of you looks like? The word on the street is that Frankie got a bit carried away."

Richard felt her loosen his tie.

"You know, my boss isn't very happy with you," she added as she undid the top button of his shirt, then ran her finger down his chest to the next. "He doesn't like it when things are taken out of his hands. Professional pride I suppose."

As Sonja caressed him, Richard, to his chagrin, found his body reacting to her touch. He felt angry and humiliated to think that Sonja could affect him this way despite him knowing exactly what sort of a woman she was. She undid the next button slowly and seductively, then stopped as the door opened once more. Richard's relief that she was no longer coming on to him was short lived.

"Sonja, leave him alone." The boss's voice was unmistakable. Richard's heart rate soared.

"She's right you know Barrett," the man continued. "I'm pretty upset with you. My clients have insisted that they take over and I don't take kindly to that, not kindly at all. Still, I've got you for a little while longer."

Richard tensed as he heard the man walk towards him. He could tell that the boss was standing directly in front of him, enjoying making him wait for the inevitable. With no warning the Nemesis man felt a hand push into his chest. He had no chance to stay upright and no way to break his fall. For a split second all he could think about was the fact that he wouldn't be able to prevent his head smashing down onto the concrete floor. He braced himself for the impact.

And then his back hit a wall. Richard heard laughter as he leaned into it, breathing hard. He can't have been standing much more than a foot away. Just as his body began to relax a fist drove into his stomach and he collapsed to the floor.

"I don't even care if you tell me the code any more. My clients will get it out of you anyway," the boss said and aimed a vicious kick into Richard's side.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 

Nobody's punching anybody

Craig jumped as he felt the blow. He glanced quickly at Sharron and hoped that Harrison hadn't noticed.. ' _We really need to find a way to control telepathic pain,'_ he thought.

They were crouching behind a hedgerow looking at a small building by the side of a small, grass airstrip. To the left there was a large shed with a grass roller alongside and, to the right, a couple of aircraft hangers. It wasn't much cover but it would have to be enough.

"OK," Stirling began. "We don't know if the boss is there but right now that's not our main concern. I'm presuming they're waiting for a plane. Under no circumstances can they be allowed to get Richard on board. Harrison, do you have a gun?"

The young man produced one from a holster under his shoulder.

"All right, you're with me. Sharron, you take mine." He handed her his gun. "Get yourself behind that shed over there. Harrison and I will head for behind the hangers. We'll have to be careful though, they could be watching from the building. And, don't forget, we want them alive."

As he looked out at the field Craig quickly outlined his plan.

"Right is everyone clear about what we need to do?" the American asked when he'd finished explaining the course of action that he had in mind.

Harrison nodded as Sharron said,

"Yes, quite clear."

"OK, let's go," said Craig.

* * *

As he lay helplessly on the floor, wondering when the next blow would fall, Richard suddenly realised that fear was no longer the overriding emotion he was experiencing. His awareness that the boss was getting at least as much pleasure from mentally tormenting him as from the physical assaults, made him furiously angry. Especially since it wasn't even 'justifiable' on the grounds of making Barrett talk. Despite his position, Richard felt stronger than he had before the boss' arrival, he even allowed himself to hope that he might get out of this alive. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not but he was pretty sure he could hear a light aircraft approaching.

"You know the best thing about this?" The boss punctuated the sentence with a sharp kick to his victim's ribs. "It's that I usually have to remain cool, calm and collected. I have to remain professional." Another kick, this time to Nemesis man's back "Not let the other guy know if he's got to me." A kick to Barrett's shin . "But now..."

"They're here," said a voice. From the sound of it, the aircraft was coming in to land.

Richard lay still, waiting for a blow that never came. He heard the boss walk away from him and decided to make the most of the opportunity. He'd need his legs if he was to have any chance of escape. He bent both knees, hooked a foot around the chain and jerked one leg down with as much power he could muster, not caring what it might cost him. The sudden sharp pain in his ankle was worth putting up with, the chain had snapped.

"Bloody hell!" Taylor exclaimed.

"Pick him up," ordered the boss. Barrett felt hands grab his arms and he was hauled upright. "And just in case you have some stupid idea in your head about making a run for it."

Richard's legs buckled as he felt a fist slam into his groin. Momentarily unable to move his legs, or in fact breathe, he felt himself being dragged out of the door.

* * *

"Are you all right?" Harrison whispered, in response to the sharp grunt of pain that had just come from his companion.

"Yes," Craig said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I just knelt on something."

It was the best explanation he could think of on the spur of the moment but, the fact was, he was anything but all right. He just wished they'd stop laying into Richard because the telepathic pain was making a tricky job even harder.

Stirling and Harrison were hiding behind one of the hangers. They watched as two men got out of an unmarked light aircraft and stood waiting. Moments later the Nemesis men saw the door to the building open. The boss stepped out followed by Sonja. Behind her Taylor, and a man Stirling didn't recognise, dragged Richard's limp body between them. From the look of things his friend wasn't going to be in any state to help them out. Behind them were two more large men. They were about forty yards from the plane, not yet far enough from the building for the Nemesis agents to make their move.

What Craig was waiting for was a distraction from Sharron. He needed the group to get a little further and then things would kick off. That moment was now very close. Unfortunately it was at this point that Barrett's head jerked up. Suddenly aware of the sound of the plane he put all his force into swinging one foot into the back of Taylor's legs. Taken by surprise the man let go, giving Richard the chance to throw the other man off and run.

Craig heard Sharron scream their friend's name just before she started firing at the group, all of whom hit the ground. The two pilots took cover behind the wheels of the plane facing away from where Stirling was waiting.

"Cover me," he whispered to Harrison as he stalked towards them.

Sharron continued to yell, causing Richard to head towards her. He was still yards from cover when she saw the boss pull a gun and take aim. He aimed low - obviously intending to bring Barrett down rather than kill him. Richard must have realised the danger because he started to zig-zag as he ran. Sharron continued to call his name to give him a bearing on her position as she watched helplessly. His inability to see didn't seem to be having a detrimental effect on his speed but it was playing hell with her nerves - at any moment he might stumble and fall over some unseen object in his path.

Sharron continued firing over their heads, causing the boss's shots to go astray. One ricocheted off the wall just in front of her. She ducked back into cover just as Barrett ran past her.

"Richard, over here!" she yelled.

He stopped suddenly and wheeled around, then hurled himself towards her. It was not a moment too soon as a series of bullets hit the ground where he'd been standing.

He was lying on the floor in a heap but at least he was out of the firing line. Sharron held her gun around the corner and fired blind, hoping to distract them enough to give Craig a chance to advance on them from behind. Richard called her name. She quickly looked round and saw that he was holding his hands up, as far apart as he could. Sharron swung the gun round, took careful aim and fired, wincing as she did so. The chain connecting the handcuffs broke as the bullet impacted with it and, in an instant, Barrett pulled the blindfold off and jumped up. She turned her attention back to the gang.

"Give me the gun," Richard said.

"I don't think so."

"Fine," he replied.

He ran to the far corner of the shed and poked his head around the corner. He could see that Craig had almost reached the two men crouched by the plane who were shooting towards Sharron's position. As Richard watched he saw his friend take them out swiftly and completely. Stirling then started running towards the nearest thug. Barrrett didn't have to think twice, he ran from cover and into the thick of it.

"Richard!" yelled Sharron, her voice filled with concern.

Barrett was so intent on helping Stirling out that he barely heard her, he flung himself into the fray, fists and feet flying as he drew on all the reserves of strength and power he had.

Sharron watched, unable to get a clear shot for fear of hitting one of her friends. She shook her head a little in disbelief at Richard's action but couldn't help smiling at the same time, it was so typical of him. He'd been intimidated, tortured and humiliated, he was still in pain from the after effects of it all and yet he hadn't hesitated to launch himself into the fight. In spite of the anxiety she was feeling she was profoundly glad to see the two men she cared most about fighting side by side, totally in tune with one another and, together, winning the battle.

As she watched she kept her eye on Sonja and the boss. The former was still on the ground, her hands held protectively over her head, she didn't appear to be armed. The boss on the other hand had been shooting at Richard earlier and was now watching the confrontation between the Nemesis men and his own with interest. She saw him bring his gun up again. This time she could see it clearly against the grass, making a perfect target for her to aim at. As he pointed his gun at her two friends she levelled her own weapon, held her breath to steady her hand and fired. A split second later the gun flew from the boss's hand and the man covered his head with his arms while searching for the source of the shot.

Having pinned him down Sharron turned her attention to the fight. Harrison had joined in and was currently sitting on one guy's chest punching him hard. Craig was struggling with two of the thugs while Richard had his hands full with Taylor. The security agent had been as well trained as Barrett but hadn't the strength and lightening reflexes of her friend. He seemed to realise this and was edging away rapidly. Behind Taylor one of the thugs had a hold of Craig while the other advanced on him, the American kicked him backwards, unfortunately straight into the oncoming Richard. As the two of them wrestled on the ground Taylor saw his chance and ran for the entrance gate.

Sharron made her way round the back of the shed and met him. She held her gun pointing straight at Taylor's head, he seemed confused as to where she'd come from.

"On the ground," she yelled, and he complied. "Hands behind your head."

She stood above him, watching the rest of the scene, while keeping an eye on Taylor. She heard the blow that knocked out the man fighting with Richard and couldn't help but flinch. A second later the boss was up and running for the car. From where she was standing she couldn't get a good shot off without risking taking her eye off Taylor; so she could do nothing but watch as Barrett took off after him. A few strides later he rugby tackled him to the ground. To her right Craig stood up and surveyed the scene. The entire gang lay in crumpled heaps around him. And then he noticed Richard.

He watched his friend aim a vicious punch to the boss's side, then his jaw. As Barrett laid into the man, Stirling stood back to allow his friend his moment, knowing that he needed to work off some of the anger and frustration he was feeling after the way he'd been treated at the boss's instigation. Craig had seen this happen before, in Wales. He also remembered the collection of 'fanatics' he'd found littering the floor after they'd discovered, the hard way, that it was a bad idea to piss off Richard Barrett. Stirling knew his friend would recover far more quickly if he were allowed to take this opportunity for a little payback.

However, realising that they needed the man conscious, he decided to step in before his fellow agent went too far. By the time Craig dragged Barrett off of him, the boss was groaning in pain and attempting to crawl away.

"Richard!" Craig yelled as he manhandled his friend away from the man who had caused him so much pain and suffering. "That's enough!"

"It's not even close!" Barrett snapped back, still staring at the man on the ground.

"I know," Stirling replied.

"He..."

"I know," he repeated, quieter this time.

Richard looked up at his friend. Craig felt him relax just a little, he'd given up fighting against his grip now. After a moment he pulled away and walked in the opposite direction, clearly still wound up. Stirling let him go.

"Don't you move," he hissed at the man lying on the round in front of him, "or I might let him have another go at you."

The boss lay still.

Harrison clambered off the man he'd knocked out and surveyed the carnage around him.

"Well I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. You two - you're amazing," he said, looking in awe at Craig and glancing over to where Richard was.

"We just work together a lot," said Stirling dismissively.

"But ...," Harrison broke off and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh never mind. So what happens now, Craig?"

"See if you can find some rope," the American said.

"Right-oh," Harrison replied and he strode towards the building by the runway.

"Taylor," Stirling snapped as he walked over to Sharron. "Get up and over there." Craig took the gun from Sharron and made the Nemesis traitor lie, face down, next to his unconscious colleagues. As he stood there he saw Harrison hurrying towards him, a large amount of rope in his hands.

"Found this," he said. "I reckon it'll work if we string them all together. Oh, and these." He held up a pair of handcuffs. "They're locked though."

"Which one of you has the keys?" Stirling asked. "Which one?"

When nobody moved he began to search the boss's pocket. Sure enough he found a keyring with a few small keys attached. He took the cuffs from Harrison and unlocked them. Then he pulled the boss's hands behind him to restrain him.

"Give me that."

Craig turned to find Richard standing behind him, his hand outstretched for the keyring. Stirling handed it over and watched as his friend tried to find which key fitted into what remained of the handcuffs around his wrists. He was having a lot of difficulty trying each one in the lock because both of his hands were shaking with reaction.

"Come on Richard," Sharron said, taking the keys from him and leading him over to the steps by the plane. She sat him down, unlocked the cuffs on his wrists and ankles and started her inevitable re-bandaging.

"I'm going to buy shares in this stuff," she said, trying her best to ignore the blood stains on Richard's jacket sleeves. He winced slightly as she peeled off what was left of the last patch-up, then he looked over at Craig as he walked over, leaving Harrison standing guard.

"I'm going to call for back up, and then get in touch withTremayne. They'll have to start going through those surveillance reports for any mention of Taylor," Stirling said. "Have you had any thoughts on that?"

"On what?" Richard replied.

"The cryptographers, maybe you noticed something recently, odd behaviour."

"Not really."

"Well, you know them Richard, maybe if you give it some thought..."

"You honestly think I haven't been trying to work it out?" Barrett snapped.

"Well, erm..."

"I'm not the one to ask. I know who I don't want it to be. I've known Anders for six years, Terry for four. It doesn't mean it's not them though."

"Right," Craig said.

"Maybe they didn't realise what would happen?" Sharron cut in.

"You think? They're well known for being stupid, code breakers! What the hell did they think would happen? I'm lucky I'm not dead!" Richard snapped sarcastically.

"OK, you're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," Stirling said, trying to placate his friend so he would calm down a little.

There was a momentary silence.

"I think I know who these guys work for," Craig said eventually.

"Oh?"

"They're CIA."

"What? You recognize one of them?" Sharron asked.

"No, but..." Stirling paused. "One time, when I was working for them, I was told to fly an unmarked plane to a small airstrip. We picked up some guy. It looked just like this, a carbon copy in fact. If these guys aren't the CIA then they were trained by them."

There was another awkward silence.

"I didn't realise until too late what it was all about. I should have backed out then and there - in a lot of ways I wish I had - but I... well, at the time, I couldn't see I had any option but to go along with it. I resigned straight afterwards. That was just one of the many things I wasn't very happy about," Craig added.

"Speaking of which," Sharron said, "Tremayne's not going to be too thrilled."

"I can't say I'm over the moon," Barrett added grimly.

"Makes sense though," Stirling said. "They'd be more than a little interested in the private communications of certain UN ambassadors."

"They must think they've got some very important documents," said Sharron.

"Yes," Richard responded dryly, "aren't they going to be disappointed."

"And you did say you thought the boss had been trained in the most efficient methods of 'persuasion'," Craig added.

"Say, could you drop me off at my car when we go back, I'd forgotten I left it at the warehouse," Richard cut in.

"Um..." Craig hesitated.

"What?"

"Well, the police might still need it," the American replied looking anywhere except at Richard.

"The police?"

"Er, yes," Sharron took over. "You see, they're dusting it for finger prints. The, er...the gang were driving it."

"Driving it."

"Yes."

"It's all right though?"

Neither of his friends replied.

"Oh God!" Richard looked a little panic stricken.

"It's just the back window," Sharron added hastily.

"The back window?"

"And the bumper. It seems our agents may have shot it."

Barrett stood up quickly. "Who was driving it?" he said, glaring at the group lying on the ground behind Craig.

"Sonja," Sharron replied.

Richard paused, apparently weighing up his options. "I don't suppose I can punch _her_ can I?" he said eventually. The resignation in his tone making it clear that this wasn't a serious suggestion.

"Nobody's punching anybody," Stirling said as he manoeuvred Barrett back down on to the step.

He watched as his friend put his head in his hands. Craig actually wondered if he was going to break down, that maybe it was all finally too much.

"I'll go make those phone calls," the American said wanting to give his friend some space. Sharron decided that Craig was right, Richard needed a few moments alone to regroup a little, so she walked over to where Harrison was guarding the prisoners.

"Will he be okay do you think?" Harrison asked, gesturing towards Barrett.

"Yes he will, he's much tougher than most people give him credit for," Sharron said.

"You can say that again. The way he launched himself into that battle despite all the injuries he's got _and_ took those men down - well it's just amazing. Like he's superhuman or something."

Sharron suppressed a smile.

"That guy sure looks a mess," Harrison said as he pointed his gun at the boss who was lying, face down, on the grass.

Sharron nodded and was then surprised by a sudden, almost overwhelming impulse to kick the man. She decided she was probably picking up on either Craig or Richard's thoughts and changed the subject.

"Did you know Taylor well?" Sharron asked.

Harrison didn't reply for a moment.

"He's worked in Internal Security for three years," he said bitterly.

"Sounds like you'll have your work cut out for you when we get back then."

She looked up as the building door swung open and Craig emerged.

"The cavalry is on its way," he announced.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17 

Just bloody well back-off will you!

Three hours later, Sharron pulled up outside Battersea Police Station. Richard had wanted to see if they could persuade Eddie Carter to testify against Doyle and the others. He also wanted his car back. Sharron had offered to drive and Craig, for once, hadn't complained. Richard had been asleep on the back seat before she'd even started the car. Craig had followed him just ten minutes into the drive back to London, his head leaning against the window. Sharron shook his arm and he opened his eyes slowly.

"We there?"

"We're there," she replied.

"I hope to God they've fixed his car," Stirling said.

"Me too," replied Sharron, glancing back at Richard who was sleeping peacefully and looking incredibly young and defenceless. "Do you think we should leave him asleep or should we wake him up?"

"Tempting though it is to let him rest, I think he has the best chance of getting Carter to co-operate. We have to give him a shot at it."

"Give who a shot at what?" said a sleepy voice from the back seat.

"Time to get back to work Richard. Can't lie around all day you know," Craig said brightly. "We've arrived."

The other two opened the car doors to get out. Barrett sat up and followed suit.

"I hope they've fixed my car. I think I'll ask about that first and get the easy bit out of the way before I tackle Eddie," he said, as the three of them entered the police station. Sharron and Craig shot worried looks at each other as they approached the front desk. The desk sergeant looked up.

"How can I...?" He paused, looking at Richard. "Have you been mugged?"

"No, I've not been mugged! I'm Richard Barrett and I've come to collect my car, the white Alpha. Have you finished with it?"

"Er, I'll go and check." The sergeant disappeared through the door behind him.

"Do you think that's a good idea for you to talk to Eddie on your own?" asked Stirling.

"I need to do this Craig."

"Maybe we'll come too."

"Why?"

"Richard you..." Sharron began.

"You don't have anything to worry about," Barrett cut in. "Doyle's the one I want to kill, not Carter."

"Oh." Sharron wasn't sure what else to say.

The door behind the front desk swung open.

"We've finished fingerprinting the car and we've sent it over to the garage, it should be ready in a couple of days."

Richard gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He knew he was blowing this somewhat out of proportion but ever since Craig and Sharron had told him about his car he'd had an irrational need to see it. He loved his car, took great pride in the fact that it was always clean and didn't have a scratch. Now he'd found out that the bastards who had been torturing him had been driving it around town while he'd been strung up in that cellar. As if that wasn't bad enough, his own Nemesis colleagues had shot it up. It made him mad…and sad. He pulled himself together and decided that he'd just have to come back to London as soon as it was fixed, that was all.

"I need to see Eddie Carter, one of the men you have in the holding cells," he told the sergeant.

"I'll try and arrange that for you sir," the man replied, and left the room once again.

Richard stood silently waiting for the sergeant to return, he was trying to ignore the concerned glances that his two friends kept shooting him but it was beginning to get on his nerves. If the sergeant didn't return soon he might say something he'd regret. He knew his anger wasn't really directed at them but they might well bear the brunt of it, if he wasn't careful. He breathed a sigh of relief as the sergeant returned.

"I've sorted that out for you Mr. Barrett. There is a small problem though, we don't have any interview rooms free. Would you like to wait or are you happy to interview Mr. Carter in his holding cell?"

"The cell will be fine, thank you," said Richard. He really didn't want to have to wait any longer than strictly necessary.

"OK I'll get one of the constables to show you the way. Er... there's just one other thing. The other man who was brought in with him, Doyle, well he refused to say a word. So we decided to have him share a cell with Carter and have one of our men monitor their conversation, without them knowing. It's a bit irregular of course but we find it sometimes saves us a lot of time. As soon as they thought they were alone they had some sort of violent altercation. Doyle was in a bit of a mess by the time we realised what was going on. The officer who was monitoring them says he didn't release they were fighting, most unfortunate really." He winked at Richard, then continued, "They seem to have smoothed things over now. I'll get the constable to move Doyle in with one of the other prisoners while you conduct the interview with Carter."

A constable appeared at that moment.

"Ready now Mr. Barrett?" he asked.

Richard took a deep breath.

"Yes, lead the way," he said.

* * *

As soon as Richard was out of sight Craig marched purposefully up to the sergeant on the desk. Leaning in very close he said,

"I don't care what it takes, I want Barrett's car fixed immediately. If it isn't fully repaired and ready for him to collect later tonight you'll have me to reckon with - understand?"

"Er, yes sir. I'll make a couple of calls and see what I can do."

"Just you make sure it's ready, that's all," said the American.

The sergeant hurried away to check on the progress of Barrett's car.

"Craig," Sharron said, "I noticed a sandwich shop over the road. I'm going to get one for Richard, he must be starving."

"Aren't you going to get me one?"

Sharron sighed, then smiled.

"Chicken salad?"

"Chicken salad."

* * *

As Richard and the constable approached the holding cells they were joined by a second officer.

"I've been told Doyle's being moved in with 'Knuckles' Nestor while Carter gets interviewed. Is that right Evans?" he asked his colleague.

Evans grinned.

"Sure that's right Atkinson, why? There a problem with that?"

"No problem...it's just that...well er ...Knuckles is rather spoiling for a fight. Did the guv know that when he gave the order?" replied Atkinson.

"Oh I should think so, the Guv usually knows what's going on. It's not our place to start questioning stuff, is it? Ah, this is the cell Mr. Barrett, are you ready?"

Richard took a deep breath and nodded wordlessly, he was secretly harbouring the hope that Frankie wouldn't have shaken off the effects of the hypnosis and would ignore him. The constable unlocked the door and said.

"You, Doyle, on your feet, you're being moved."

Frankie stood up slowly, wincing a little as he did. His pained expression changed into a malicious smile as he looked up and saw Richard waiting just outside the cell door.

"Well if it 'aint my little playmate. Eddie, yer boyfriend's 'ere to see ya, now aint that sweet?" he said.

Carter's head snapped up and Barrett saw hope flare in his eyes and then fade as he registered that it was not Mac standing there.

So as not to intrude on the man's unhappiness, Richard looked at Doyle instead. Instantly a mental picture sprang unbidden into his mind. An image of himself, standing helpless in the cellar, with Frankie using the device on him. He fought to keep control of himself, trying not to give in to the shaking that threatened to overwhelm him. He managed to get himself under control but then was assailed with an almost uncontrollable desire to punch Doyle. So as not to give in to the impulse, he clenched his hands into tight fists at his side and stood his ground. He was concentrating so hard on keeping himself in check that it wasn't until later that he discovered that his nails had dug into his palms and drawn blood.

"Or maybe it's me 'e wants to see? Is that it Barrett, ya wanna play some more?"

"That's enough Doyle," said Evans. "Get your stuff together."

Frankie started to pick up his things very slowly. The man was clearly in pain from the beating Eddie had dished out to him but Barrett suspected that the discomfort wasn't the only reason for his lack of urgency. Doyle was taking full advantage of this opportunity to taunt Richard further.

"Hey yer've got blood on ya. Ya bin playin' wiv someone else? Now that aint fair. Fancy goin' off findin' yerself another little friend the minute my back's turned. Still it goes to prove wot we both knew all along - you enjoy it don't ya?"

Richard bit back the retort that sprang to his lips, about Doyle himself looking extremely bruised and bloodied, and looked away, trying to ignore the effect this man had on him. He had no intention of allowing himself to be brought down to Frankie's level.

"No more of your lip Doyle, bring your things and follow me," said Atkinson.

Just at that moment a man shouted from one of the other cells a little way down the corridor.

"Damn, I'll have to check that out," said Atkinson. "New prisoner, just arrived, knows _all_ his rights. I'll go and tell him his solicitor's on his way - that should keep him quiet for a bit. You carry on with moving Doyle - OK?"

"You got to be kidding! No way am I unlocking Nestor's cell unless you're right here with me. The mood he's in he might just swing for me," said Evans.

"You've got a point there. Hang on here a moment then, I'll be right back," Atkinson said.

He hurried out of the door, as he passed the cell opposite a voice called out,

"Ya listenin' out there? You find somewhere else to put Doyle, I aint sharin'."

"Be quiet Nestor. You're in no position to make demands," said Evans.

"I aint makin' demands it's just a friendly warnin'. I wouldn't go puttin' anyone in 'ere with me - not if ya know wot's good for 'im anyways," replied Nestor.

"Hurry up Atkinson," called Evans. "We need to move Doyle now, so that Mr. Barrett can conduct his interview with Carter."

Frankie swallowed hard, he knew that he was being set up for a beating but he also knew he could do nothing to stop it. He decided to take out his frustration on Richard.

"Aw Barrett, so it _is_ yer boyfriend ya come to see. Aint that nice?"

"DOYLE SHUT UP! Come on Atkinson, NOW!" yelled Evans. He marched up to Frankie and seized him by the arm, making him grunt in pain.

Atkinson came running back as Evans started to hustle Doyle roughly towards the door.

As they drew level with Richard, Frankie's fist shot out in the direction of the Nemesis man's groin. If he was going to get beaten-up he had no intention of suffering alone.

He never made it.

Richard moved like lightning and Frankie found himself hoisted halfway up the wall, the Nemesis man's right hand at his throat. At first Doyle's face showed only shock. Then he met Barrett's eyes. The look in them was so chilling that Frankie's expression changed to one of terror. Seconds passed and no-one moved, the tension between Doyle and Barrett was so palpable that the onlookers were too stunned to attempt to intervene. Then Richard slowly opened his hand and Frankie fell to the floor. Doyle scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the cell, closely followed by the two policemen. Once he was safely in the corridor Frankie recovered his bravado, he turned towards Richard and said,

"Does Mac know about you and Eddie? Ya filthy faggots, ya make me sick." He paused, then spat on the floor.

Between them the two constables unlocked the door to Nestor's cell and thrust Doyle inside, slamming the door behind him.

As Atkinson marched off down the corridor Evans returned to Carter's cell.

"Thank you Constable, you may leave us alone now," Richard said.

Evans looked from Barrett to Carter and back again.

"Hang on a minute, I'm not happy about this - you're not...er...what he said are you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not," said Richard, tersely, as he stepped inside the cell. He turned back to Evans immediately, the constable was standing there, one hand on the door.

"Are you going to be closing that?" Barrett asked.

After hesitating for a moment Evans swung the door shut and locked it.

* * *

Richard stood with his back to Eddie marshalling his thoughts. He took a deep breath, trying to relax the muscles in his back and neck a little. Unclenching his fists he noticed four crescent shaped marks in each palm. He wiped the blood away angrily and subconsciously his hand went to his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes. He had one halfway to his mouth before he remembered he'd lost his lighter. As he replaced the cigarette in the pack Carter spoke,

"Er...Mr. Barrett?"

Richard turned and saw the man was holding out a silver zippo. He took it from him and turned it over. On the back was engraved 'R.B.' Without saying a word he retrieved his cigarette and lit it.

"I...er...I sneaked it in 'ere. Didn't think they'd believe it were mine so I didn't give it in." He fiddled with his own pack of cigarettes. "Oh, um, the wallet with my stuff...that's yours and all," Carter added, not looking at Barrett as he lit up. "Sorry I lifted it but..." his voice trailed away.

"You weren't expecting that I'd need it again," Richard said drily as he placed the lighter on the small desk against the wall and walked over to the opposite bed. He didn't add that there'd been times he'd thought the same thing. Carter continued to stare at the floor. From outside the door he could hear banging and Doyle's voice, yelling to be put in another cell. Barrett felt a twinge of satisfaction that the man was getting his come uppance. Still, it wasn't making the conversation any easier. Eddie was less likely to talk if he thought Frankie would end up in a cell with him again. He made a mental note to ask the constable to keep Doyle in with Nestor, a win-win situation.

"I'll get Frankie moved permanently," Richard said.

He decided to sit on the bed, as he did so he winced slightly. Eddie chose that moment to look up. He glanced downwards, then immediately back up at the Nemesis man's face.

"Shouldn't you be in 'ospital?" he asked Richard.

"Probably."

Carter shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry about that, what Frankie said I mean." He nodded his head towards the door. "And the rest of it." Eddie went back to staring at the floor.

Richard decided to move on. He knew he looked a wreck and could do without being reminded of it every few minutes.

"You'll be pleased to know we've arrested your boss," he began, "and, since he took a few pot shots at me, we can get him for attempted murder. He'll be inside for a long time." Barrett paused, waiting for that to sink in. "Apparently you don't know much about him anyway."

Carter shrugged and shook his head.

"And I'm far more concerned for the moment about what happens to Doyle." As he spoke a second voice began yelling across the hallway. "At the moment," Richard continued, raising his voice over the noise, "we can charge him with grievous bodily harm but I don't know how many years that'll get him. Not enough, as far as I'm concerned." Barrett ploughed on. "I'll admit, part of this is personal, but mostly I just don't want him to have the opportunity to do anything like that ever again."

He stopped and watched Carter's reaction. That was as close as Richard was going to come to talking about his feelings concerning Frankie Doyle. He'd only been willing to go that far because he wanted Eddie's help. In the other cell the banging started up again, although now the accompanying screaming suggested that it was something other than Doyle's fists being pounded into the door.

"So Eddie," he continued, "I need you to think very carefully about what happens now. We both know Frankie's psychotic, that he needs to be put away and I need your help to make sure it's for a very long time."

Barrett noticed Carter grind his teeth. What he was asking the man to do went against the grain, he knew that.

"This is your best, and possibly your last, chance to get away from all this," Richard continued. "At the moment you're being charged with false imprisonment and, with your record, that'll mean prison. On the other hand, if you co-operate, I'll speak in your defence."

Carter looked up, possibly trying to gauge whether or not to trust him.

"I'm not saying I can get the charges dropped, but my testimony will mean a lot. Without it there's no reason for a jury to believe you're not responsible for what happened to me."

Eddie took a slow drag on his cigarette, obviously thinking things through.

"And of course there's Mac," Richard added.

The other man looked up sharply at this.

"I spoke with him and he seems fairly convinced now that you had nothing to do with...all this." Barrett didn't elaborate, Eddie knew what he was talking about. "He wants to talk to you. Do you want to see him?"

For the second time since he'd arrived at the cell he saw Carter's face light up.

"Of course I wanna to see 'im," Eddie said quickly. "Thanks...I really mean it, thanks."

Richard decided to press his advantage.

"I'll be honest, if you go to prison..." he let the words hang there for a minute, watching the other man struggle to reconcile what he wanted and years of belief that, no matter what, you never co-operated with the police.

"Should I ring Mac for you?" the Nemesis man asked.

Still Carter didn't say anything. It had gone very quiet across the hallway, Nestor had obviously finished taking his frustrations out on his new cell mate... for the time being.

"Well?"

Eddie nodded imperceptibly.

"Call 'im. I'll do wot you want and not just because of Mac. What Frankie did was…" His face took on a greenish hue as he remembered, "Well you know better than anyone. I want out and that's a fact so I'll tell it like it is. You can rely on me to co-operate. I'm not saying I'm 'appy about it mind – I don't like coppers. But I reckon I owe ya and, if I get meself a chance to make a decent life with Mac as well, that's more than I deserve."

Barrett stood up and knocked on the cell door. As he waited he turned back to Carter.

"Thank you," he said. "Seriously."

The door opened and Richard strode out before the other man could reply.

"Mr. Barrett you forgot this," Eddie called.

"Keep it," Richard said gruffly, without turning round. He knew only too well that Carter meant his lighter and, after what Doyle had used it for, he never wanted to see it again.

"But Mr. Barr..."

Richard wheeled round and the expression in his eyes froze the words on the other man's lips. Eddie hastily shoved the lighter out of sight and looked away as the Nemesis man squared his shoulders, turned and walked out of the cell.

Evans locked the door behind Barrett and said,

"Er, I'm sorry about what I said before, it's just that what Doyle said got to me a bit. What he suggested you and Carter are, well it's unnatural isn't it? But now I've had time to think a bit I can see Doyle was just trying to stir it up. I mean it's obvious you're not that way isn't it - you've only got to look at you to see that. Doyle'll get what's coming to him though. Orders from the Guv say he's to share that cell with Nestor for the time being. Course we can't let Knuckles get too carried away like, but we're busy men - we don't always hear stuff that goes on between these lags, and anyway they need to sort it for themselves. Trouble is Nestor seems to be on a very short fuse all the time - we've never worked out what sets him off and he isn't much of a one for talking, he sorts things out with his fists. Doyle can be handy with his fists too, but he's a lot smaller than Nestor - shame eh?"

He winked broadly.

As Richard set off down the corridor he heard Frankie groaning in pain and Nestor telling him to shut up if he knew what was good for him.

* * *

Craig and Sharron looked up as Richard came back into the reception area and walked over to the front desk.

"I need you to take a look through Eddie Carter's belongings," Barrett said to the desk sergeant. "My wallet should be in there."

He stood with his back to his two colleagues as the police officer left. Then he leaned on the counter top, a wave of fatigue suddenly washing over him. He tried to shut out the feelings of concern coming from his friends but he couldn't help hear the scrape of a chair and Sharron's footsteps.

"Richard..."

"I'm fine," he snapped looking directly ahead.

"Oh," Sharron replied. "I was only going to ask if you wanted this."

He turned to see her holding out a sandwich. He smiled sheepishly and took it, suddenly very hungry. Nobody said anything as they waited, Richard taking large bites until he'd devoured the lot. As he was searching for somewhere to throw the paper wrapper the sergeant came back.

"Is this it, sir?"

"That's the one." Richard took it and flipped it open, noting the absence of about half of his cash.

"You'll need to fill in this form Mr. Barrett."

As Richard completed the paper work Craig approached.

"OK, let's get back to the hotel. Tremayne wanted an update and I could use a shower."

The policeman behind the desk cleared his throat theatrically,

"Excuse me Mr. Barrett but the form you filled in doesn't entitle you to possession of that wallet. All it does is register your claim to it. I can't let you take it without authorisation from my superior. It was handed in with Carter's belongings and, in the absence of proof to the contrary, it's his. I can't just go handing over prisoner's belongings like that you know."

He took the wallet back, picked up the forms Richard had completed and started to head for the door. Craig moved menacingly forward.

"If Mr. Barrett says that wallet belongs to him then you can take his word for it. Hand it over to him now, he's completed the paperwork so you're covered," he said.

The constable quailed slightly but stood his ground.

"I'm sorry Sir, but it's more than my job's worth," he said, backing rapidly towards the door.

As soon as he was through it Barrett turned on Stirling.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," he snapped. "I'm quite capable of claiming my own wallet thank you very much. I wish you and Sharron would stop kid-gloving me. We all know what I've been through and you two mollycoddling me isn't helping me feel any better about myself and what happened so just bloody well back-off will you!"

Craig did quite literally that.

"And you know what," Richard continued, "there's hardly anything in it any more so forget it." He turned and headed toward the front door. As he passed Sharron she heard him mumbling to himself,

"He's got my bloody lighter anyway, he might as well have my wallet as well."

She and Craig exchanged a worried look before following their friend out.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

How about another round of drinks?

The following morning Sharron, Craig and Richard walked into the Nemesis building in Geneva. They'd considered taking a flight back to Switzerland the night before but Tremayne had pointed out that there wasn't any need for them to rush back as they'd done all they could for the time being. He'd advised them to get some proper rest at the hotel and take the first flight home the next day. Richard had been keen to return immediately but the other two had over-ruled him and they'd all returned together that morning.

As they had feared, it had not been the most pleasant trip. Richard had been silent or, at best, monosyllabic all the way home. Even the news that his car had been repaired and was being shipped back to Switzerland later that day had failed to improve his mood. The tension between the three operatives was hard to miss as they walked into Tremayne's office. The older man looked up briefly, took in the situation, and sighed quietly as they sat down. He was relieved that Barrett looked better than when he had last seen him but it was obvious that he was angry. Tremayne knew that what he was about to tell them was not going to help his operatives' mood. He poured drinks for his agents, handed them round, then filled his own glass with a generous measure of scotch.

"Welcome back," he began after he'd taken a sizeable gulp from his glass, "I've read your preliminary accounts of what happened and here are the reports from the surveillance done over here." He slid a file towards Craig and continued. "We've traced the leak within Nemesis to a code breaker by the name of Pers Sorensson." He turned towards Barrett. "Richard, Internal Security will want to talk to you about any times you've worked with him."

The agent nodded silently.

"We're sure it was him?" Sharron asked.

"He's admitted it. He says he thought he was working on an Internal Security covert operation."

"And you really believe that?" Barrett asked quietly.

"I'm not sure if I do, but it's certainly true that he has been very co-operative. He's only been here a year, it's just possible that he didn't realise that we don't do things that way."

Richard shrugged. He didn't know the man well and would certainly not have considered him a friend, but he'd worked with him enough to know that the man was no idiot. It seemed unlikely that he didn't know standard Nemesis procedure.

"What about Taylor?" Stirling asked.

"He was flown back here last night," Tremayne replied, "Internal Security are interviewing him. Needless to say they are not pleased."

"I bet they're not," Craig said. "He's compromised their entire department."

"Which is their business from now on. In fact, as far as you are concerned the case is closed. You should head down to medical and then take a few days off."

"That's it?" Richard asked incredulously. "We don't get to interview the people we arrested at the air strip? There could be all sorts of implications..."

"Richard," Tremayne cut him off. "That's not going to be possible."

The three agents looked at their boss for a moment. The older man sighed heavily and took another large gulp of his drink; this was the bit he hadn't been looking forward to.

"Have the British government detained them?" Sharron asked. "Do MI6 have...?"

"No, not the British." Tremayne said quickly. He paused for a moment, then continued,

"This has caused an almighty stink. Obviously the presence of what appears to be CIA agents covertly operating in Britain is an acknowledged fact but not one that anybody wants to own up to. To further complicate the situation, they have kidnapped Nemesis personnel and attempted to steal codes from the UN. However, proving that they actually do work for the CIA is next to impossible since they're hardly likely to admit to it."

"Well, if we..." Craig butted in.

"Stirling." Tremayne held up a hand. "You know how these things work. Meetings are happening behind closed doors and deals are being made. All I can tell you is that the Americans are claiming that all the people we've rounded up have outstanding arrest warrants in the States and, on the strength of that, they've demanded that the British extradite them."

" _All_ of them?" Richard asked in disbelief.

"No, not quite. Unsurprisingly they've only asked for the people who might provide concrete evidence about the organisation behind all this. That includes the man you knew as 'the boss', who has been identified as John Hillman. One of our older agents recognised him from a mission in Bolivia, years ago. Naturally the Americans have requested we also extradite Miss Temnikova and Mr McGuire. They would almost certainly have asked for Johnson too but, of course, he's dead, killed presumably because he knew who Hillman's employers were and might be 'persuaded' to co-operate with us. They're willing to let us keep our people, together with the thugs they used - Mayes, Carter and the two Doyles," Tremayne said.

"Generous of them to leave us the hired hands who can't tell us anything of any use," Craig said sarcastically.

"But the British won't just tamely allow the extradition surely?" Sharron said.

"They already have. All of them were put on a direct flight to Washington D.C. this morning. It is very unlikely we will ever hear of them again. What I can tell you is that Hillman left the United States eighteen years ago, allegedly after committing a series of bank robberies. He eventually turned up in London, running various criminal operations."

"That doesn't explain where he learned how to interrogate people so professionally," said Stirling. "It seems far more likely he was trained by the CIA and then sent under cover to England"

"I agree Craig, in fact there are a number of things that point towards that. He was briefly in the military, there are no records as to why he was discharged or where he was for the next four years except that he turned up in various places including southeast Asia and a number of South American states. Then there's a two-year gap in the records until he appears in London. We are not alone in wanting to find out the details of everything he's been involved in, but we'll probably never know the whole story."

Tremayne looked at his three agents as the information sank in. Craig and Sharron looked furious, Richard, for once, was hard to read. He was staring blankly out of the window, which was worrying the older man intensely. He could understand their frustration, he shared it, but there was little that even he could do.

"I shall be heading to Washington this afternoon," he continued. "Although I cannot specifically accuse anybody of doing anything I shall be making very sure that they're aware that we know they were behind this. That might not sound like much, but it's no small thing to have the CIA owe you something, it could turn out to be very useful. I also doubt that Hillman, Miss Temnikova and the others will be getting a very friendly reception from their employers. The CIA doesn't take kindly to being implicated in scandals like this one. It's highly probable their operatives are in for a 'difficult time'."

"Oh well that's good," Barrett said flatly as he rose. His tone of voice made it crystal clear that he had no intention of continuing the conversation, even at the risk of antagonising Tremayne. "I presume this debriefing is over then."

"Essentially yes, but I'd like you all to read the files and talk to Internal Security. Medical first though Richard."

Barrett put down his drink turned and strode to the door. He stood with his back to Tremayne waiting for him to open it. Craig and Sharron hesitated for a moment before putting their own drinks beside Richard's, standing up and heading after their friend. None of the three turned back towards Tremayne as they walked out of the office. The older man sighed heavily then stood up and poured himself another drink.

* * *

As soon as the door shut behind them Stirling held up his hand to stop the other two from walking away.

"I don't know about you two but that's left a very nasty taste in my mouth. How about we all go back to my place, I'll fix up some food for us and we can share a few drinks and maybe wash it out."

Sharron nodded her agreement immediately but, for a moment or two, Richard looked as if he were going to refuse. He'd actually started to shake his head when he saw the look on Craig's face and realised that there was a little more behind his friend's offer than just a chance to share some sustenance.

"Why not?" he said, as he shrugged his shoulders and followed Craig and Sharron to the car park.

* * *

A short while later they were all sitting in Stirling's flat with drinks in hand. The leftovers from the meal that the American had put together were on the table in front of them.

"Now," began Craig, "I don't know about you two but I am not going to let this go that easily."

"What do you suggest we do? Tremayne made it clear that, as far as we're concerned, the case is closed," Richard objected.

"Since when did we meekly follow orders when our consciences dictated otherwise?" Stirling asked.

"When we had no other choice," Barrett replied flatly.

"We _do_ have a choice, we've all got some leave now," Craig said.

"What are you suggesting?" Sharron asked.

"That we do a little digging on our own, or maybe go to the press. Show the CIA that no-one pushes us around and gets away with it," the American said.

"Look Craig, I want to get even just as much as you do," Barrett said. "More, in fact, but I can't see that we can win this one. Tremayne made it clear that the orders from on high were to back off. You know as well as I do that the papers will bury it as soon as the pressure is piled on them. All we'll do is put everyone's backs up and achieve nothing."

"Richard's right, we can't go to the press and I can't see that 'a little digging', as you call it, will get us anywhere," Sharron put in.

"I can't understand why the two of you are so reluctant to take this further. Doesn't it rankle that they're being allowed to get away with this, time and time again, right under our noses?" Craig demanded indignantly.

"Of course it blo.. oops, sorry Sharron... Of course it does, but I really can't see we have any choice," Richard said.

"I still think we should do a bit of investigating on our own time. Who knows what we'll find?" Stirling persisted.

"I'll tell you exactly what we'll find, absolutely nothing," Barrett said. "Or, if we do find something, we'll never get as far as using it. Give it up Craig, it's not worth using our valuable leave on, and I think you know that really, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do but I really hate to let them get away scot-free after what they put you through, Richard."

"I feel the same as Craig about that," Sharron said.

"Yes me too," Richard said bitterly. He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry I went off the deep end in the police station. I wasn't really mad at you two, well maybe just a little, but it was Doyle and Hillman I really wanted to lay into."

"I know," Craig said quietly.

"So what do we do?" Sharron said. "Do we let it go or not? Richard, you're the one with the biggest score to settle, you say what you want to do and we'll back you up, whatever you decide."

"I say we let it go. And you can take that stubborn look off your face Craig. Sharron's right, I do have the biggest axe to grind and I can't see we are going to achieve anything by trying to take on the CIA, they're just too big. We'll just have to be satisfied with the knowledge that they owe us. Who knows when Nemesis may need to call in that favour? Anyway not everyone got away with it - Doyle is behind bars and, from what I've heard, the police are going to make sure he gets a _very_ rough time of it," Richard said.

"No more than he deserves after what he..." Craig broke off abruptly at the expression on his friend's face.

Sharron hurried into speech,

"Besides Tremayne was right, the CIA aren't likely to welcome their people back with open arms. No-one will have come out of this entirely unscathed." She paused for a moment and looked from Richard to Craig. "So are we agreed, we let it go?"

"I guess so if that's what Richard wants, but if the opportunity ever arises when we get the chance to even the score, don't expect me to hold back," Stirling said.

"Hold back? We'll be shoulder to shoulder with you urging you on," Barrett replied.

Sharron cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at Craig who reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small gift-wrapped package.

"Er, Sharron and I bought you a little present," he said a little sheepishly.

He held the parcel out to Richard who took it and stared at it, looking embarrassed.

"Well open it then," Sharron said.

Richard unwrapped the gift slowly.

"We'd like to get it engraved for you, " Craig said.

"Let us know what you'd like on it and we'll get it done as soon as possible," said Sharron.

"Thank you, I will," said Richard, forcing the words past the lump that had unaccountably formed in his throat. "So that's why you dropped Craig off at the jewellers on the way back to the hotel Sharron - I might have guessed!" He hesitated a moment and looked down at the floor, overwhelmed and embarrassed by the rush of emotion he felt. "Er…thanks...I er...well... Thanks. I'd like to keep it for a few days before I decide what I want on it, is that all right with you?"

Sharron nodded her agreement.

"Sure," Stirling said. "Now, how about another round of drinks?"

Sharron held out her glass for a refill and, while Craig busied himself pouring her drink. Richard looked at the two of them, separated his new lighter from the paper his friends had wrapped it in, and put the gift into his pocket. It was great to have such loyal friends, he thought happily, and he smiled his first genuine smile since he'd been knocked out and taken to the cellar all those days ago.

 **THE END**

Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are most welcome.


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